


A Cat in Noir 2

by NeoCatNight



Series: A Cat in Noir [1]
Category: Furry (Fandom)
Genre: Cats, Detective Noir, Drug Use, F/M, Film Noir, Furry, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, neo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoCatNight/pseuds/NeoCatNight
Summary: Struggling Detective Kuro dives into the underground of the superstitious city of cats. Tangled in a web of Nip, lies, mobsters and fem fatales, he searches for the answers he's been looking for all his life in his darkest days.
Series: A Cat in Noir [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009758
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Le Debut

“You know how you swore off women for the third time this year?” Biggs reminded me in my office.  
“What about it?” I wondered, in my chair with garbage all over my tank top.  
“You need a girlfriend.”  
Hearing this sent visions through my head. Sent bad feelings soaring through my body. A drink of scotch dulled the pain for a mere moment. I clutched the half empty bottle of liquor in one hand and my glass in the other. I barely managed to talk back, fighting an overwhelming emotion, “I don’t want anyone. Not after Callie. Not after… Luna.”  
“None of those two are your fault.” He lied to me, “That being said. The nip is still going around, and we have a lead.”  
“What will that take us?” I tested, pouring another shot, “To another lead? Then another, and another.”  
“You have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, right?” He reminded me, stepping to my door, “Hopefully the doc can get you out of this funk.” With that, he headed out of my office into the summer evening storm. The door struck a golden bell as it opened and closed. A jolly ring echoed through my cramped office space. The last thing to accompany me on this night. That ring used to tell me, a mystery walked into my life. That ring got me so excited when I first started this. Now the ring mocks me. Everytime I heard it, what waltzed through the door said the same old thing. My same mistakes.  
I downed my drink, unable to remember how many I had tonight. I stood from my office chair. My home rocked back and forth like a ship out at sea. Crumbs fell from my tanktop, landing on the grey shag carpet I haven’t vacuumed in a week. Going around my desk proved difficult on legs, wobbling like noodles. I knocked over a few case notes and almost broke a picture frame with the thing I valued the most. The frame dropped face down, hanging off the edge. This close call sobered me up a bit. I put it back upright and stared at her through the glass. She gave me a picture of her on stage. A note hid behind her beautiful face, in the back of the frame. A note wishing luck to the black cat.  
I never had luck, no lead, no love. Every time I crossed someone’s path, pain ensued. I brought a storm of bad will to those I felt too deeply for. When I thought I could fix things, make things right, the tide turned to break my spirits further. Whenever I reached out, it was always yanked away from me. The luck of my family. The curse of the black cat.  
A funk. That's what Biggs called it.  
I had a doctor’s appointment, first thing in the morning to see if I could cure it.


	2. Chapitre Une

The rising sun did nothing for my crushed spirit. Its rays cut into morning rain clouds, found its way in through the cracked side window of my office, and snuck past the blinds covering the glass wall of my bed closet. A dose of sunbeams shot into my sand caked eyes, awaking a hangover, throbbing at the side of my skull. I had that appointment at the ass crack of dawn. If it went well, then maybe mornings like this would stop being so painful.

My body rejected the idea of moving a muscle to start the day. I used to describe this typical feeling as if I clung onto the last of my nine lives. Now it felt like I didn’t have a life to spare. I was just going through the motions as an unreal ghost.

I pushed off the few blankets I hid under last night. A grey cotton comforter I bought when I moved here. A small, white polyester blanket I hid under while in a basket as a baby. I wore nothing under these covers. I had only a thin coat of midnight black fur, enveloping my raw-boned and gaunt physique. Needed to be decently dressed to visit the hospital. From my dresser at my cotside, I fished out loose-fitting undergarments, black dress pants and a white dress shirt. With these folded in my arm, I dragged myself out of my bed closet.

No eggs or bacon greeted me in my office on any morning. My breakfast consisted of stale slices of toast, a cigarette and a shot of whisky. The bread crunched a little too much. Three days past its expiration date. I ate it anyway. I grew accustomed to having a stale taste in my mouth. Stale air of the city, stale coffee, stale feelings in my gut. It all bled together into a lackluster, black and white life. The cigarette kept my overactive fight or flight instincts at bay. The stale yet smooth taste of mint and tar soothed me. Like listening to a good song, sitting next to a roaring fire. Biggs said smoking would kill me in five years, but it kept the sad feelings away. The sad feelings could kill me in five months. The whisky hit hard. Its smoky and bitter taste distracted my senses from other pains. The drink graced my tongue with a good pain. A stark contrast from the dull tastes I grew accustomed to. If the doctor wouldn't prescribe a good medicine to me, this had to do.

After I enjoyed this bountiful meal in my birthday suit, I headed up to the bathroom.

Stairs hid behind the wall where the grandfather clock stood. The last step ended right above my bed closet. If I made too much of a ruckus on the upper floor, the popcorn on the ceiling fell into my blankets. 

I took a quiet shower under hot water. Afterward, I dried my fur and wrapped the towel around my waist. A mirror stood next to my shower and bath combo. I looked over myself in the reflective glass. Whenever I had an exciting or tension filled day ahead of me, I stood here and got myself psyched. I used to ask myself, ‘who’s the cat?’ And I’d answer, ‘I’m the cat!’ Not anymore though. I’m nothing. 

I fixed my wet mess of spiky, punk hair into a sophisticated, slicked back look. This style made me look my age. Made me appear as if I had my life together. I had to walk out of my office in a facade. Much like what everyone else in this city did. I looked like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, not that my cot had any good side. My whiskers bent in every which way, as if pointing me to false paths in life. I bared my fangs, threatening the reflection staring back at me. Consistent shots of various alcoholic beverages appeared to be doing a number on my pearly whites. My teeth resembled more like greasy yellows now. After screwing around my short, triangle-shaped snout, I looked into my own eyes. Eyes I could hardly bear looking into anymore. Flawless emeralds, sullied by black cracks in the centers. The things these gems had to see. Enough gawking. Time to head out.

The glass door to my office led outside. The printed letters on the other side began to fade away from the sudden floods of the night and brief shines of sun in the day. I read the backwards lettering. Alleyway Detective Agency. A little business me and my friend started, detached from the police. Some business it turned out to be. Me and Biggs were only able to solve a missing car case and retrieve a girl's lost book. The nip case continued to torment us. 

I opened the door and stepped out onto the cracked, sun bleached sidewalk. Every bit of concrete had a thin, deep crevice. Out of superstition, I used to try my best to avoid the cracks. My self imposed challenge proved too difficult however. My mother probably had a million back fractures at this point. Not that I knew who my mother was.

I got a car finally. An award given to me for nabbing Don Feral. Not an impressive accomplishment anymore. The news we got a week ago rendered everything I did pointless. The car symbolised a false victory. It mocked me, among a plethora other things. I needed to use it though. Navigating the city grew more and more tedious and I didn’t want to borrow Biggs’ baby any longer. The car hid in the alley, between my office and an out of business shoe shop. I put a grey tarp over it to shield its paint from the elements. Biggs did the same for his car. I unrolled the tarp and basked in the undeserved beauty. A white crown victoria. A ying to Biggs’ yang. Its cream-white paint shined like a pearl. The modest and simplistic body shape gave me some odd feeling of confidence and worth when I drove it. I didn’t want to feel those feelings however. In this city, a sick ride got you chicks. A month ago, having this car would have got me so excited. I loved girls and craved their attention. Now, I desperately stayed away from them. I couldn’t trust myself and I could not trust another.

I fished out the key in my dress pants. With it, I turned the lock and opened the driver side door. Grey, carpet like fabric dressed the seats. Not a stain ruined it's tacky plaid designs, not yet anyway, Eventually I would spill my flask of booze or drop a hamburger on the passenger seat. I put a couch pillow where I would sit. No matter how hard I looked under, I could not see a lever to adjust the seat height. My tiny ass needed this embarrassing little boost. I luckily could see over the steering wheel when I got in. When I turned the key to the ignition, the radio came on along with the engine. The radio remained the one imperfect thing about my ride. No matter what dials I turned or how hard I kicked the box, it stayed on the same channel. A random FM station that played the same song, twenty-four seven. 

ol' man river

He keeps rolling along

You and me

We sweat and strain

Body all aching

And wracked with pain

Tote that barge

Lift that bale

Get a little drunk

And you land in jail

I gets weary

Sick of trying

I'm tired of living

Feared of dying

But ol' man river

He's rolling along

I pulled out of the alley and rode down Superstitious street. What a dreary day. A storm brewed, mirroring the sorrow in the hole of my heart. Thick clouds stirred below the sun. Their blooming mist reminded me of old fluff in a pillow. Rain collected within, I had no doubt. The storm had the patience to wait for the perfect striking moment later tonight. Meanwhile, the sun managed to release a few rays of hope for the meantime. The rays reminded me, a rainbow always shined after a storm. I hoped that rainbow had color like it was supposed to. Color to wash away the noir. 

I continued straight when I reached an intersection. If I turned left, I knew where I would end up. I never wanted to visit that pyramid again.

After a stretch of dumpy buildings, the right side opened up to a beach. Trash floated in still, black water until it washed ashore on fine, white sand. A few kids didn’t let a little overcast ruin their summer. I remembered having that attitude. That drive to feel good, no matter what. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt that way.

“You’re healthy… for the most part.” My doctor alluded, “But I suggest you limit alcohol.”

I gave the man a look of death. The old doctor stood next to me in black dress clothes and a stereotypical white overcoat. He held a clip board of papers in his wrinkled claw, covered in white fur. The clip board held the results of every time consuming and embarrassing test I had to take. Apparently, one of the tests said to ease up on the sauce. I didn’t drag my ass here to hear this. I had to pay this guy to help me find a cure, and here he stood, telling me to abandon my home nurse. I started to feel irritated, sitting here on this rubber examination bed. 

“Does alcoholism run in the family?” he asked, testing my patience. 

I thought back to some unpleasant memories, “My dad drank.”

“What about your mother?”

My mother remained a mystery. One I would never solve. She had to be one of the nine mistresses my father had an affair with. A mistress for every life he ran into the ground. 

One rainy night, my father opened his door to see a woven basket. A basket with a kitten hidden under a blanket. The note pinned to the kitten’s shirt read: “Try solving this one, asshole.” He promptly dumped the basket at the nearest orphanage. I knew I would never know who wrote the note. This was something I had to accept. I had a DNA test however. The test showed I was half french. The other half, a loveless asshole.


	3. Chapitre Deux

“What’d the doc tell you?”  
In my office, I gave Biggs the news, “He said to go see a different doctor.”  
“A what?” Biggs scoffed, taking a seat opposite from my desk, “What other doctor?”  
“A mental one.”  
“Sounds like he thinks you’re looney.” He tried to make light of it, “Hey, about that lead. We need to talk to him.”  
I asked who this he could be. Biggs said Don Feral.  
“I thought that guy was in jail.”  
“He is,” Biggs said, looking over the collection of empty bottles littering my desk, “He’s agreed to speak with us.”

We took Biggs’ car. An old, black Crown Victoria. The Yang to my Ying. This old gift had a few too many miles on its meter and suffered a few too many accidents. Regardless, Biggs’ prized vehicle proved faithful to us. No matter how much of a rush we were in, no matter how dangerous the job would be, this Victoria got it done. Its silk black paint would soon blend into the night. A ghost on the streets in the mysterious city. Biggs got its left busted headlight fixed, so the old cop didn’t have to worry about tickets. The new light would guide us to our destination. I sat in the passenger seat, its chewed up leather squeaked against the leather of my overcoat. I could sit back and watch the city pass by while my friend drove.   
Biggs fit snug in the driver seat. As far back as I knew him, he had always been on the bigger side. The driver seat had to be adjusted as far back as it could go. His hourglass shaped head almost hit the car ceiling. He had to sit a bit hunched over to see under the sun visor. In front of him jiggled a bowl full of jelly, like Santa Claws. That bowl appeared to be shrinking, slowly but surely. He took that diet seriously. I felt proud for him. That meant I had to hold my end of the deal. If he committed to the diet, I had to stop smoking. I could wean myself of the smoke, as long as I had a little sauce to keep me sane.  
I took the hot silver flask from within my leather coat and took a swig.  
“Is that booze?”  
“Yeah,” I casually answered him, “Want some?”  
“It’s three PM.”  
“Does it matter what time it is?”  
“I’m just saying…” he judged, rubbing his short rectangle shaped stub of a snout, “Party time has a specific time of day.”  
“Well, sadness doesn’t.”  
I didn’t want him to understand, but he probably wanted to. Biggs, the name fit him too well. Big body, bigger brain, biggest heart. My first memory was of him taking me under his wing. Getting me out of that accursed orphanage and away from that horrid nanny. He’s been taking care of me ever since. He knew what was best for me and never hesitated to call out my mistakes. He knew I was going down a dark road. I knew. If I opened my mouth, he would start to understand. I didn’t want him to understand. I probably couldn’t, but I wanted to see if I could handle my own problems for once. I didn’t want to burden him with a scar that couldn’t be healed.

“Aahh, my boys,” Chief Burns greeted us at the police station, “Your man, Feral is right this way.”  
Burns escorted us to the cat we needed to see. What better cat to handle the Don than him. The chief had always been a tough son of a molly. Seen his fair share of murders, participated in his share of cat fights. Frankly he scared me most of the time, but if we had to visit Feral, I felt safe knowing Burns could protect us if things got out of hand. He grew close to retirement, so as Biggs became smaller, Burns grew larger. I remembered him being built like a boxing glove. A heavy set of muscles and power. Now he was more built like a sack of potatoes. A walking fast food menu. When we reached the door leading to the interrogation room, he gave us a look like he wanted to give us a mysterious hint. Then I remembered that was just how his face looked. A deep, gnarled scar sealed his left eye, making him look as if he wanted to tell an inside joke. Kids would always beg him to tell the story on how he received such a souvenir. Myself included when I was that age. In his yellowing fangs, he used to chew on a fat cigar. He quit smoking recently however. Trying to show me up. Instead, he chewed on a popsicle stick. Better a piece of refined wood then our heads. He pointed to the door with his thumb and said, “Only one of you can go in.”  
Biggs mumbled to himself for a bit before telling me, “Sit this one out, brother. I’m good at interrogations.”  
“No.” I stopped him, “I have a history with Feral and his family. I know how to talk to him.”

I expected a one on one show down of wits. Just me and Feral. Instead a whole mess of armed cats packed into the room like sardines. Officers armed to the fangs with bullet proof vests, identity concealing helmets and rifles aimed at the cat himself.  
This didn’t look like any interrogation room I ever saw in my day. It felt like I walked into the lounge of a rich cat’s mansion. Red silk curtains decorated black wood walls. The spotlights on the ceiling shined geometric patterns, like the bulbs were made from crystals. Everything smelled like good wine and lavender. The table and chairs looked as if they were stolen from a five star restaurant. I rested my butt on the red cushion of the chair, opposite of Feral.  
This was him, the cat I had a history with. When I looked at him, I couldn’t help but see myself if I didn’t stop going down my dark road. Black silk fur concealed his skeletal, zombie like body. Patches of white broke the darkness, like clouds in a deep sky. The last time I saw him, he was wearing a red suit with a black tie. This time he wore… a black suit with a red tie. Amazing, while being held in prison, he did not wear the tell tale, bee patterned prison jumpsuit. I couldn’t see through his thick bushes for eyebrows, but I felt his glare. As if knives cut into my heart. Glass didn’t separate us, but I couldn’t help feeling like I stared at a mirror into the future. We stared at each other for the longest time. When I realised he wasn’t going to have the first word, I spoke up, “Feral, I haven’t seen you since…” the past stung my soul. Visions only alcohol could whisk away hit me, “I haven’t seen you since… what happened to Callie.”  
He spoke so softly, as if a ghost tried to communicate from another dimension, “What happened to my daughter was… unfortunate.” He mumbled too straight, “But you must expect such casualties when you deal with nip.”  
“We thought you were the source.” I cut to the chase, “How are you not the source?”  
“Many Dons throughout the city deal in nip. It funds their wellbeing. They are all linked to one source however.”  
“Please tell me the source.”  
“Very few have connected with it. I am not one of them, but I do know someone who has reached out once.”  
“Who?” I insisted, “Who is he?”  
“Go to the cabaret club.” he ordered me, “Search for Tom.”  
“Fine.” I decided, “Why are you helping me?”  
“Son, the nip. It burrows into one's brain. It finds the hole in one's life and fills it with a bad filling. Once it does that, it takes control of your body. You are no longer you. You are the nip. Find the source. Once you do, you can achieve vengeance. For you and for me.”


	4. Chapitre Trois

“Sounds like Feral is taking his daughter’s death too well.” Biggs talked while driving to the joint, “Think we can trust him?”

“If he is screwing with us, we’ll handle it.” 

“Hey… does it hurt? What happened to her?”

“Of course it does,” the pain seethed, “I miss Luna too.”

“Oh, the singer girl.” He recalled, not feeling as much weight as I felt, “She’s safe now.”

I have never been to a cabinet club, or whatever these joints were called. I thought these were exclusively a Japan thing. I guess you could find anything in the culturally diverse mess of a city. I had a vague idea on what awaited us inside. My idea had to be wrong in some aspects. It was supposed to be a sort of dinner and show. Like that one medieval family diner where you watched actors have a yee-old battle to the death. 

Biggs parked at the sidewalk of some street I didn’t recognise. I sort of zoned out during the ride. The sun left our side of the sky for tonight. Darkness had to keep us company for the rest of this investigation. Stars refused to gleam in the black blanket folding over the city. Light shined all around us instead. The entirety of this small, dead street came to life. Neon lights bloomed in every color. The bar we parked next to basked in hot red, while the gas station a little ways away glowed in cool blue. That rainbow came early. When the rain decided to pour fashionably late, its dampening droplets only empowered the neon flare. The view down the street became something like a kindergarten chalk drawing on a black board. 

The club lit up across the street, opposite of where we parked. It didn’t look like any club some kids would make up for their tree house, nor did it resemble a bar where men could get away from their wives. It was a castle. An astounding feat of architecture in the middle of a run down and forgotten old boulevard. The place of fantasy sparked in a magical purple. Above the red double doors stood a statue of an angel in knights armor. I couldn’t grasp a hint of the inside. Bright orange curtains covered the two visible windows. I couldn’t see inside, but I could hear quite the racket. Cheering and applause, like a grand party. No point in waiting in the car, we had to head in. 

The noise hit louder when we stepped out. I wondered how many phone calls they received from their neighbors to turn that down. Rain pattered my head and threatened to ruin my hair due. Glad I had Biggs to cover me. He always packed a black umbrella in his car. On nights such as these, he ran to my passenger side and took me under its shade. This night was no different. Together, we crossed the street to the cabaret club.

A line of men in fancy business suits halted our investigation right when we entered. Big cats in red suits, skinny cats in grey suits, all men. We would be in the back of this line for hours before we got a single hint of this Tom cat. In the meantime, I took in the sights. I usually described impressive places like this as ‘snazzy’. The wall most cats waited by was draped in red ruffled curtains. The carpet my muddy dress shoes sulked was also red. Everything was red. The ceiling, the spotlights, the waiting lounge. They had a lounge to relax at while you waited. A group of bigger cats blurred the lounge in harsh smoke. The three puffed cigars and small talked in big, elegant red leather sofas. The smell of their smoke flooded my nose, along with scents of rosemary, lilac and cherries. At the line’s end, A suited gentlecat held everyone at bay by a check in counter. Just our luck. I didn’t expect us to move any closer to that counter without a reservation or warrant of some kind. If the check in area looked this fine, I couldn’t imagine how out of control the main area looked.

Before I told Biggs we should get out of here and rethink our plan, the gentlecat from the counter came to us. A decently tall and fit sort of cat. He didn’t wear a shirt underneath his black suit, so his fine, glossy muscles gleamed in the red light. He had this well shaped face that said ‘confidence’ without him having to speak a word. His whiskers sparkled, I couldn’t tell if those were droplets of wine or if he decorated his whiskers with gems. He spoke to us in a voice as smoky as the air around, “Detective Biggs. Detective Kuro.” his voice slithered in my ears, “We’ve been expecting you.”

Both me and Biggs said, “Excuse me?” in unison.

With a smooth hand gesture, he escorted us, “Right this way. We have your seats ready.”

The gentlecat took us to the huge show room. Dining tables to a romantic restaurant circled a center stage to a kabuki theater. The man had us seated at a table a row before the front. I did not expect me and Biggs going out on a date. We sat next to each other in chairs like kings' thrones. A white cloth wrapped around the round table. On this table, three wine glasses centered around a glowing, hollow rock, full of ice. A few others sat at neighboring tables, but every other sat far away from us. So many tables stayed open and yet a line almost out the door riled up in the back. Every customer looked similar to the ones in the line. Suited men, some my age, some Biggs’ age. An employee accompanied each customer. Not an employee like the gentlecat who brought us here. Always a girl in a skimpy dress, as if flirting with the customer. Not very professional, I had to think. Speaking of girls, two of them snuck up on us and took the two remaining seats. Me and Biggs were squished between them. The girl at my side wore a black silk dress that wrapped tightly around her long, white fur. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pushed her chest into mine. A circle of grey fur centered on her short, soft looking face. She gave me this playful, eyelash batting look with eyes like black holes. Like, I get it, you’re cute and all, but I don’t like women anymore.

Biggs had a similar situation. A black cat in a little white dress. She rested her stick-like body on him and purred like a helicopter. Something about her eyes bothered me. It was probably her lack of pupils that did it.

The gentlecat, still at our table side, told us, “This is Yin and that is Yang. They will be keeping you company this fine evening.”

Biggs spoke up, “We’re looking for Tom.”

“Ahh Tom,” he chuckled, “You’ve done research on our staff. Unfortunately, she won’t be accompanying you.” With that, he left us with these two.

“I got a whole lot of man right here, Yin,” the black cat playfully teased her friend.

“I like this one, Yang.” The white cat at my side purred, “He’s fun sized!”

Biggs cleared his throat, “Ladies please. We’re looking for-”

Yang interrupted, “Let's order some wine!”

“Mmm, yes. I could go for some wine.” Yin giggled, sounding already plastered out of her mind. She took the pamphlet from the table and threw it at my face. It held a menu of every wine in stock, along with fruit bowls, parfaits, and something called ‘the sauce’. My wallet screamed at the prices.

Biggs’ eyes almost popped out of their sockets, “Sweet cheese and crackers.” he exclaimed, “I’m gonna be livin’ on the streets after tonight.”

We had to order something, so we ordered the least expensive wine. It still cost as much as a few tanks of gas. The girls didn’t judge our stingy attitude or the comparatively inferior alcohol. They just wanted to party. I was happy to get a little hops in me as well. With a few of my nerves calmed, I wondered when this show would start. The red wood stage stretched out across the expanse of dining tables. Something amazing had to happen on it. If I didn’t see two guys fight to the death, I would want a refund. Not that we paid to get in here. I thought about how they expected us. Someone got us in here. It could have been the Don. Somehow he gave us a reservation from prison. Or it could have been this Tom girl, who stood one step ahead of us. A wood chandelier hung above the stage. All thirteen of its ends held a lit candle stick. Those candles might have been scented. The smell of herbs drifted from above. Yin massaged my shoulders and dug her claws into my armpits. Yang rubbed Biggs’ belly and purred the song of her people. 

“I can’t wait. Yur gonna love the- hic- show!” Yin slurred, taking a liking to the cheap wine.

“Yin!” her friend scolded, “You’re such a drunk!”

“Introducing the club king and queen!” an announcer on a loudspeaker shouted. From the left end, two rows of women marched forward. They wore white formal suits with iron shoulder pads, gauntlets and spiked boots. At the end of the two rows, a king and queen followed. The king wore a red long coat with gold jewelry decorating his head to his toe. A crown sat atop his head, between his white ears. At least a dozen gold and silver necklaces choked his neck. His formal coat dropped to his feet. It could have been a dress.

The queen wore a dress as well. A rather small and tight white dress. The front had a hole cut into the shape of a heart. She wore a crown as well, along with about five silver bangles on each arm. The rows of marching guards stepped up to the stage and stopped in perfect file. The royal couple sauntered elegantly between until they reached the stage’s center. The royal guard bowed to their knees in respect for what the king and queen had to say. 

“Welcome to our esteemed establishment!” the king announced.

“We do hope you enjoy the various entertainments we have to show tonight.” Added the queen.

Music broke out. Loud, snappy and jazzy music from announcement speakers. The music made the royal guard break out in high stepping dance. What the heck did me and Biggs walk into?

The royal jester took the stage. He was a rather tall and lanky character with a long, white snout and longer, black tail. He wore a long coat and skinny dress pants that still flooded at his heels. From his top hat, he revealed three wooden blocks. I had no idea how he fit those in there. That might have been part of the magic. He proceeded to do all kinds of wacky tricks with the blocks. He juggled, made things disappear and revealed scarves from his sleeveless wrists. After everyone applauded, he sprung in a circle and bowed low to the ground. He almost hit his nose on the stage. As he walked off the stage, I could see his whole body shaking and sweating. Must have been a new employee. 

Next came a woman called the royal gypsy. How many cultures are they going to throw at us? A long, heavy silk robe covered most of her body. She kept her hood up until she arrived at the stage’s center. The grey cat wore a lot of makeup on her already beautiful face. Red blush pronounced her cheeks. Eyeshadow made her green eyes glow like emeralds. Gems decorated her extra long whiskers. When she opened her mouth, something sparkled on her tongue. She held a white wood staff in her hand. With it, she began to perform tricks and dances. As she spun across the stage like a ballerina, he robe shorted at the skirt. Slowly, her legs exposed. She had something else on underneath. Black fishnets wrapping around her long legs. When she spun to the center again, the robe disappeared. My goodness, her body was something to behold. I hoped I could describe it well enough. The fishnets on her slender, yet strong legs traveled and ended inside a black leotard. The sharp V at her waist traveled high up, showing off her hip bones and flat bottom. The leotard pressed against her smooth stomach and around her chest. The fishnets continued to her arms and ended to a collar at her neck. She began to perform a different sort of dance with her pole. The audience cheered and whistled. Me and Biggs stayed silent. Yeah, I thought she was pretty, which was fine and didn’t mean anything. I just wanted to cross my legs and divert my attention for brief moments until her dance came to an end. 

The announcer concluded after her dance, “Give it up for Tom Pixie!”

So that was our Tom. Great.

“We need to speak with her.” Biggs told the guard to her dressing room.

“Sorry, we don’t allow those kinds of visits.” The puny excuse for suited security insisted. 

Biggs whipped out his badge, “Its police business.” I showed off my gold star as well.

With a grumble, the guard turned around and unlocked the door. He popped his head into the crack he made and said to who hid inside, “Miss Tom, you have visitors.”

On the other end, we heard, “For crap sake, Chad. Ugh, fine. Let them in.”

Chad moved away from the door and wished us luck.

We barged into Tom’s dressing room. Small little hole in a big establishment. She had a cracked mirror lined with big light bulbs. Next to the mirror was a coffee table of various makeups, letters and a bouquet of dead roses. She sat in the child sized stool next to the table and mirror. A bathrobe covered her beautiful and tall body. Her face looked prettier up close. A round head with a sharp snoot. Markings like war paint sprawled her face, like natural makeup. White fur stood on the tips of her spiky ears. Without the gems, her whiskers brushed out a bit shorter. She scowled at me, her emeralds cutting into mine. When she spoke, her voice spat out loud and harsh, “Wow, great. More pervs wanting a date.”

“Nothing like that ma’am.” Biggs cleared up, “We want to talk to you about… well… about nip.

When he said this, all the fur on her face turned white, “Are you debt collectors?”

I decided to clear up this time, “No, we’re detectives. You’re in debt?”

“I owe those goddamn bastards five thousand each.” She growled, punching her mirror, “This crap job is barely going to give me that in three years.”

Biggs said, “We wanted to ask some questions. We can protect you from whoever you're in debt to as well.”

“Ooo a fancy way of saying ‘throwing me in the hole’!” she bit, “What are you gonna get out of ‘protecting me’? Huh? A little redemption? Make you feel better about yourself?”

“What's with the spice?” I broke, “That's not very PG language.”

“Listen, crapface!” She roared, pointing her claw at my nose, “I can handle Don Feral on my own. I don’t need anyone! I don’t-” She stopped and broke out in tears.

Man, she was something. I stepped back. Never was confident with dealing strong emotions. I couldn’t get a grip on my own feelings, so how could I bag up her’s?

Biggs stepped forward and cleared his throat, “Uh- there there.” He mumbled, patting her shoulder, “We can handle them. We already bagged Feral and-”

“Feral?” She gasped, “He’s in prison?”

I answered, “Uh… yeah?”

“Oooo so the fuse is lit!” She gushed, standing from her stool, “Maybe you should help me!” With this, she pushed past us, out of the dressing room, “Well come on!”

She would be alot to handle. I had to think of her as any other person though. It's just part of the job.


	5. Chapitre Quatre

This chapter turned out not very PG at all. 

Tom left her job and responsibilities at the door as she skipped out of the club in her bathrobe. Me and Biggs followed. Outside, the big cat unfurled his umbrella to protect us on the way to the car. She took the back seats so me and Biggs returned to ours. Now to drive out of this odd street. We had a new problem to solve. Where to keep Tom. We needed to protect her from the remains of the feral family, I assumed. Those scum wanted money from her. A lot of it. With the Don in prison, she had to be a little safe in some way. Her words bothered me though. The fuse had been lit. It had to mean something.

While he drove down the street, me and my brother gave back and forth suggestions. Biggs suggested the police station, but she lashed out at that idea.

“I thought you weren’t going to throw me in the hole!” she barked, “You promised!”

I didn’t promise crap, but whatever. The only safe place I could think of happened to be my office. Nobody ever dropped by to visit me these days anyway. I didn't have too much space at that dump, but it was the best I had. One poor excuse for a bed waited there. I had to pull out some old blankets to make the floor as comfortable as possible. That is, if she had to spend the night. 

Seemed like I couldn’t keep women away from me after all. They always found a way into getting mixed up in this nip business. Up in my business. A common theme in this ruthless case. I had to deal with her like I would with anything in police business. Delicately, from a safe distance. Didn’t need to get too involved. Only involved enough.

Biggs didn’t have an issue with her staying at my office. Guess his office had even less space. He felt this would be ‘good for me’. Whatever that meant.

She liked the idea of her crashing at my place as well. Protecting her for my redemption suddenly became a pleasant thought. She now wanted me to feel good about myself. I didn’t get her and almost didn’t want to.

“You changed your mind in an instant.” I reminded her, “why?”

“The perfect cat to help me is the cat with a death warrant!” 

I had no idea what this meant, but okay.

We made it to my office. Me, the walking death warrant cat. Biggs, a cat who she described as the front third wheel of a tricycle. And her, a girl I had no words for. Biggs planned on heading home, leaving me with the biggest piece of baggage we ever had to deal with. Outside my front door, we took shelter under the awning. He gave me the gist of what was supposed to happen tonight and tomorrow. For the rest of the late hours, this would be like an extended interrogation sequence. An interrogation where the suspect would have to stay in the room, along with the interrogator. I should get more info on who exactly she owed money too and how much. Maybe learn a bit about her story as well. In the morning, we would all head to the station and continue on with what she told me. Biggs told me all this while she stood right in front of us.

“Remember, you two.” he gestured to both me and her, “No funny business.”

That term could have meant a number of things. Regardless, I said he didn’t have to worry. I wanted to keep this under control as well. With this, Biggs took to his car and drove off. 

Tom took in the sight of my office. If I knew I would have a guest over, I might have cleaned up a little. Well, maybe not. I didn’t really care anymore. The office became a big part of my life. A mess. The dull gray shag carpet almost became a box of litter, but not literally, thank goodness. Every step I took kicked up crumbs and other fallen objects. Clothes, papers, pens, litter in general. The ticking of my grandfather clock and the tapping of rain on the cracked side window greeted us. That smell hit my nose and undoubtedly hers. That smell in your room you never notice until you leave and come back. Like sweat, old chinese food and loneliness. Tom crinkled up her nose and said, “Uhh… did the detective get robbed while he was gone?”

“No.” I growled.

“All that pole dancing worked up a sweat.” She puffed, “You wouldn’t happen to have a shower, would you?”

“What? You think I lick myself clean? Of course I have a shower.”

I told her the bathroom was upstairs. She headed up to wash herself, so all I had to do was sit down here and wait. In the meantime, it was the best opportunity to clean house a little. I didn’t feel like it, but I couldn’t think of a time in the future where I would. First, I fetched my dirty clothes from the floor. Shirts, ties and underwear thrown about with a care. I put these in the hamper in my bed closet. I didn’t own a washer or dryer. Once a week I would take a trip to the laundromat up the street with the clothes tucked in pillow sheets. Lately, I’ve been making less and less trips. Only going when I had close to nothing to wear. Once I visited, wearing one of Biggs’ baseball shirts and shorts from fourth grade. Another time, swimwear trunks and a tank top full of moth holes. With every article of clothing I could find in the hamper, I fetched all the littered papers. Case notes, often directions to dead ends or files on innocent cats. None of these got me closer to the source. I wanted to throw most away, but I wouldn’t just in case. I forgot where I put the paper shredder anyway. I checked the mini fridge underneath the desk for no good reason. Leftover take out food and plenty of booze. Guess I turned out to be that stereotypical detective after all. Maybe Tom would fancy a drink when she got out. I had to lose some of this stuff anyway. 

She stepped down the stairs in one of my towels. Made me realize she didn’t have spare clothes of her own. I had to find some of mine to spare. With her size and stature, I doubted I could find something that fit. With her fresh out of the shower, her body was damp and her fur was silky. Not like that was relevant or anything. Just something I couldn’t help but notice. Anyway, I told her where my dresser was in my bed closet. She wanted to raid through my drawers on her own.

I sat in my office chair, waiting for her to make herself decent. Wanted to get this interview over with so I could go to bed. Having a drink or three wouldn’t hurt either. I organised the mess on my desktop and almost knocked over the picture again. Why I couldn’t stop being so clumsy around it, I did not know. That's her in her red dress. On stage, doing what she was most passionate of.

“What’s this?” I heard Tom’s voice nag. When I glanced back, I saw her with one of my private magazines in her claw. With all that cleaning, somehow I forgot to hide that.

I made an excuse, feeling a sweat as well, “It’s… uh… evidence.”

“Oh sure.” She teased, tossing it to my desk, “I bet you spend every night looking over it.”

“What are you even looking for?”

“Evidence.” she said, staring at the picture on the desk.

“Of what?”

“Of what made the detective so mopey.” She picked up the picture, “You miss this girl?”

Now this struck a nerve. A roar boiled inside me, but I held it back. I begged her as calmly as possible, “Please put that down.”

“Ah the love sick black cat.” He huffed, putting it back, “What would it take to cure this sickness?”

“I...I don’t know.”

She snuck behind me in my chair and touched my shoulders. In my ear, she whispered, “If I had parents, they’d tell me to stay away from your type.”

Ignoring whatever ‘my type’ meant, I asked, “You don’t have parents either?”

She let out a soft gasp, “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

Had to agree with her on that, “Listen, I have to interrogate you.”

“Of course. I understand.” she said, moving to my side, “You want to know everything about me.”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“You want to save me from the Feral family,” She reminded, reaching for the knot in her towel, “I want to save you too.” The knot untied and towel fell to the floor. I saw her tall, slender body. All of it in front of my eyes. Droplets of steamy water ran down her silky, storm cloud fur. My eyes wouldn’t move away from the sight of her femininity. 

“Is this the evidence you really want?”

No funny business. This had to be professional police work. I couldn't get too involved. It was crucial to keep my distance, as to not get hurt. These facts ran through my mind, as if making their way to scream into my ears. She was a suspect. An accessory to a case. I knew this already and wanted to listen, but some wild instinct had something else in mind.

“...Screw it.” 

I gave in and kissed her.


	6. Chapitre Cinq

The screaming of tires broke the dawn. A harsh wake up call, after a night of shameful joy. I woke up in my cot with my tank top and dress pants on over my grey blankets. Today was one of the few occasions where I didn’t wake up with a hangover. The ruckus outside would soon provide the head pain. Tom awoke at my side, dressed in my leather overcoat. She asked what the racket could be, so I decided to look.

I peeked out the bed closet. Everything in the office seemed to be fine at the moment. The squealing stopped, replaced with muffled yelling from a mouth with a thick accent. I glanced through the glass door to the outside to see a car on the street. A long black car, almost like a limousine. Funeral attire black with star stuck silver. The front reminded me of a tombstone. The back resembled something like a horse drawn carriage. A cat sat out the passenger side door. Long, gangly and looked more like a rat. I thought I recognized him. I saw what he wielded in his hands. A tommy gun. I ducked to the floor as I saw him aim. With my hands over my head, I heard the gun fire. One explosion immediately after another. The glass to my door shattered and sprinkled over my back in fine crystals. Time slowed to a crawl in this moment. Between my arms, I saw bullets flying by, like microscopic jet planes. Each arrow of hot lead left a ribbon of smoke. Everything second of time I wasted in my life came back to punish me. Each bullet in the storm left a mark on something I valued. My case notes, torn to shreds. Every direction to a dead end, every note on an innocent cat, turned into confetti. Most bullets ended up buried into the back wall. It stopped the moment I believed this hell would last forever. Without another yell from the shooter, without an explanation, the car drove off. 

I stayed on the floor. Time still appeared to be in the balance. I snapped out of this trance when Tom called to me. I rolled to my back and saw her in my coat. She shook like a dog. The end of my trance began with uncontrollable shaking as well. It took a while to find the strength to stand.

Tom ran through the paper confetti and hugged me. I wanted to hug her back, but it felt like dumbbells hung at my wrists. The sight of my office distracted me too. I barely started cleaning the place last night and look at it now. A bigger mess that couldn’t be fixed. Tom mumbled something in my ear. I couldn't make out a word. I wanted to ask her something, but I didn’t know how to say it. My tongue felt dry and swollen in my mouth. 

We had to take in what happened. Recollect ourselves and assess the issue. I pried Tom off my body and stumbled to my desk. She said something to me again. A sentence involving the words ‘car’, my name, and ‘danger’. I huddled under my desk and opened the mini fridge. At least this appeared intact. From inside, I snatched a half empty bottle of vodka and took a drink right from the spout. Its powerful kick reorganised my senses and made the world stop shaking. Tom talked. This time, I understood loud and clear. “Bastards might be back.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, searching for my phone, “Should call Biggs.”

The phone on my desk didn’t have any bullets inside. I could use it. When I held the receiver, I noticed something that didn’t survive. The picture of her. Luna singing in the red dress. 

The other end picked up. Some voice I wanted to recognize mumbled. My ear wasn’t at the receiver so I didn’t hear. Holding the bar to my head, I called, “Biggs? Something really bad happened here. Can I-”

“Keep it down!” Biggs’ harsh voice hissed on the other end, “I’m hiding in the closet with my phone.”

“What?” This couldn’t have been good, “Why?”

“These mobster cats are ransacking my place.”

“Shit!” I swore, forgetting to keep it down, “Alright, I’ll come to you. We’ll find safety and figure this out.” I hung up, leaving my brother alone for the moment. My attention refocused on Tom. She paced around, taking in the sight of the carnage. I called her and said we had to get to the second office. She nodded and asked “Can I borrow some clothes?”

She became my twin today. I found a pair of dress pants two sizes too long and a white dress shirt with the same length issue. These fit her perfectly. My second pair of dress shoes didn’t fit, so she had to resort to wearing these red, tacky tennis shoes I forgot to donate. I let her keep my overcoat. It fit her better anyway. 

Now to make myself decent. I wore the same as her. Black shirt, white shoes, black hat. I was a time bomb. I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. I hid my pistol and shoulder hollister here. If the bad guys decided to use guns on us, then I would pack a piece as well. Before we headed out, I snatched my black fedora hanging on the coat rack. A bullet whizzed through the top. Still, I decided to put it on my head. 

Tom, for some reason asked, “Where’d you get that hat?”

“I… I don’t remember.” I lied.

We turned the corner outside, to the alley. A billow of black smoke rose from the hood of my car. Deep black spots ruined the white paint job. Those goons shot my baby up. I doubted it would run. If I started up the engine, it would ignite. Biggs lived only a few blocks away, so we could walk through the dangerous street. I looked across to the other sidewalk. An old cat with a shopping car glared at us. Above, some woman stared down through her window. Their eyes brought the shivers back. 

“We need to run.” I told Tom, “But we can’t be seen by anyone.”

I took her hand. Together we rushed down the block. Despite how stupid the superstition was, I felt I should have been more careful with stepping on the cracks. Some unknown force grew pissed off when I didn’t watch my step. We passed under a ladder along the way. The dumbest thing to do in a situation such as this. I couldn’t get away from the bad luck. If I only kept my distance, if I remembered no funny business, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. We bumped into a pedestrian in our frantic run. I looked back at him, hoping he wouldn’t do the same. He did, and mumbled something to himself. The walls of the city have eyes. The ground kept track of every misstep and the alley cats lurking within whispered. 

“Hey… hey slow down,” Tom panted behind me, “Lets not worry too much.”

“It’s my job to worry!” I barked, “Listen, Callie. You’re great and I really like you, so I need to-“

“Who’s Callie?”

“What?”

“You called me Callie.”

“Oh… sorry.”

We arrived at a closed down antique shop. Tom wondered why we stopped here. I said the office waited above. I took her into the alley between the shop and a no tell motel. A car hidden under a white tarp took up most of the space. It brought some relief, knowing his car was still okay. A set of rickety metal stairs brought us up to the second floor office. The concrete door with golden words reading: ‘Alleyway Detective Agency 2’ hung ajar. Someone came through here and left the door open. They might have been still inside. From my hollister, I took my pistol and aimed it in the crack of the door. With great care, I pushed heavy concrete the rest of the way. At this angle, I didn’t see anyone inside. Biggs office space was structured like mine, only higher off the ground. The place looked ransacked. His coat rack laid on its side by the door along with his trench coat and tie. For a split second, I mistook the rack for him. Someone busted a hole in his fish tank on the left wall. Water ruined his white shag carpet while his koi fish laid dead in the center. His desk tipped on its side, like someone wanted to use it for cover in a shootout. I didn’t see any bullet holes anywhere, thank goodness, but I couldn’t help but feel as if someone hid behind that desk. Telling Tom to wait here, I stepped in. With my pistol aimed at the desk, I approached one step at a time. I shuffled close enough to peek over from above. No one hid behind, but someone emerged from the right room. Someone big with a gun. 

“Biggs!” I gasped, “I almost shot you.”

“I almost shot you.” he copied, letting his guard down.

He didn’t appear hurt. Just a little more pale than usual. The scares of today turned more his fur a premature white. This had to have taken away at least one of his lives. He wore his shoulder gun holster over an ugly, green christmas sweater. Overly long grey sweatpants covered his slippers. The attack must have happened when he woke up, like mine. I asked if they took anything from here.

When he put away his revolver, he said, “I think they were looking for me.”

“Why would they be looking for-” A terrifying thought stopped me short, “Biggs, those same mobsters shot up my office.”

“You’re kidding!”

I showed him my fedora as proof, “We need to get somewhere safe.”

“The police station.”

I nodded and headed to the door, back to Tom.

“Wait, wait!” he shouted, “We shouldn’t take our cars.”

“Why not?”

“For some reason, I feel like they might recognize our victorias.” He told me, “We’ll take the back allies to the station.”

“We pissed someone off.” I talked to Biggs as he escorted us down the stairs and behind his car, “Someone we know.”

“The list of cats we piss off is a long list.” He reminded me, taking us to a small crack we had to squeeze through. A foot wide space, filled with pipes and garbage took us out to the back street. We all had to sidle through here like a stealth mission through the city. I doubted Biggs could fit, but he proved me wrong when he stepped in first. I asked Tom to go next, then me. I loved sardines, but now I felt bad for them since they had to be kept in cramped spaces like this. An unpleasant feeling suffocated me. Like the walls wanted to crush my body and mind. I placed my hand on a red pipe and regretted it. Whatever flowed inside burned so hot, my fingers turned numb. Tom stopped moving because Biggs did. Something waited for us on the other side. I couldn’t see over her or him, but I could hear the engine of a car. I could smell its smog and hear voices. The first voice I didn’t recognise. The accent sounded familiar however.

“Think we taught those boys a lesson?”

“No way.” The second voice said. I knew this voice, “That black cat killed Callie. He has to pay more.”

“We’ve done enough today.” The first concluded, “Let's get out of here.”

A second wave of bad exhaust filled my nose. An engine in need of work roared and tires crunched pavement. The car left. Those goons looked for me. Not Biggs, not Tom. Just me. Maybe they ransacked Biggs’ office to find him too, but they could have been looking to get my location out of him. Those two could have killed Biggs. To get a rise out of me or any number of reasons. These horrid revelations stopped me from noticing the two leaving the alley. Tom looked back and told me to move my ass. I snapped back to reality long enough to push myself out. On the sidewalk of this backstreet, the thoughts continued to torment. Those bastards wouldn’t have needed Biggs to learn of my location. They knew my place and shot it to hell. The words the two exchanged before they took off. They wanted me to pay more. The two knew I survived the attack. Maybe they didn’t want to kill me yet. Maybe they wanted to show me who ran this city. 

“The station is right down this way.” Biggs talked, “Yoo hoo! Earth to Kuro!”

I shook the thoughts away, long enough to answer, “Right. Okay. Good.”

“Hey!” Tom took my attention, “Focus. A detective needs to focus, right?”

“What? I don’t understand you.”

With a giggle, she said, “You sure understood me last night.”

“Tom… not now please.”

We made it to the front office of the station. And sitting at the front desk was no other than Judy. A well fed cat I never got along with. In fact, she made sure no one got along with her. Almost every day, she sat here to make appointments and ruthlessly judge everyone who walked in. Seeing us stumble through the doors only made her day better.

“Well well,” She began with her thick, unpleasant accent, “If it isn’t our favorite detectives!”

I talked first, “Not now. We’re in an emergency.”

“Ya got anotha gurl at ya side, so this can’t be good.”

Biggs stayed calm and collected with everybody who gave us sass. But Judy struck a special cord with him, “Now cut the cheese, Judy!” he hissed, “We just got attacked by the Feral family!”

The name made her sit upright and brush the cookie crumbs off her blouse, “I- I thought the family was out for the count!”

“Since their boss is in jail,” Biggs told, “They’re even more feral than ever.”

“I think we should talk to the Don again.” I decided.

We waited in the fancy interrogation room. Judy and an army of guards promised to bring the boss in. The red curtains still hung on every wall and a lingering scent of wine danced in the air. I half expected a four star dinner to be served along with Feral’s arrival. I sat in a middle chair with Biggs on my left and Tom on my right. Unpleasant thoughts continued to distract me, but none were coherent or clear. A vague cloud of worry stormed over my head. One thought stood out. The girl on my right had something to do with all of this. Those goons were after me so suddenly, but they wanted something out of her too. I crossed paths with cats. Bad cats. But some of those paths seemed invisible. 

“Hey.” she talked to me, “That Callie girl is dead, huh?”

“Not now, Tom.”

“Those guys blame you for her death. Hell, you might blame yourself, but that can’t be true.”

“I… I don’t know.”

Judy busted into the room, without Feral. Before we could ask, she told us, “Uhhh… Feral is missing from his cell.”


	7. Chapitre Six

“What do you mean he's not in his cell?” Biggs cried.

“He couldn’t have walked out, just like that.” I added. 

Judy paced the room and bit her nails. She pulled out the ribbon, holding her calico hair in a bun. Me and Biggs stood from our chairs, contemplating how this possibly happened. We watched Judy walk until she brushed her nose on the left curtain. Then she marched back until she bumped her glasses on the right. Tom stood as well, “The fuse has burned out,” she muttered cryptically, “Now the bomb will explode.”

Biggs snapped his fingers, grabbing everyone’s attention, “We need to trace him back to the foxhole he hid off to.”

Sounded like a ‘no duh’ of a plan, so I asked, “How do we do that?”

“I know!” Tom exclaimed. She took me by my shoulders and dragged me out of the room.

In the mid hallway between the interrogation room and the other offices, Tom made sure we were completely alone. I didn’t understand what she planned. After she checked the left and right door, she put her face close to mine and held my shoulders again. “You trust me, right?”

“What? I don’t get you.”

“I can help you find the source.” she whispered, “But you have to trust me and no one else, okay?”

“We should tell Biggs what you’re-”

“No!” her shout echoed around the hall, “Just me and you. Okay?”

It felt like she was asking to turn the tables around on our relationship. I broke my eyes away from her’s to stare at the door to the interrogation room. Biggs waited inside still. Tom asked me to do something I almost couldn’t stomach. I had to trust her, a woman I met yesterday over Biggs, the man who has been there for me for as long as I could remember. Our third wheel as she put it. I placed my hands on her shoulders, swallowed away the last bit of common sense I had and said, “Okay. I will do anything with you.”

Behind the station, we found the garage where the police kept the undercover vehicles. It resembled more of a plane hanger than any parking garage. We snuck in through the back door.

Inside, the hanging light bulbs from the ceiling lit up on their own. Black wires offered us concentrated little balls of sun. Strong enough to spotlight every car sleeping inside. The door we snuck into led to a little platform, high enough for us to see over every car in the row. The vehicle closest to us was a little black ford. A box car with rounded edges and an arrow head shaped hood. It had a pitch black paint job, while rings of cream white curved around the walls of its tires. I thought someone cracked the windshield, but apparently that was just the style of the glass. Designs like cut edges of crystal obstructed the view. Tom said she wanted to take this car without looking at the others. Okay fine, I had to jack a car from the police station for her. Before we could take it out on the road, we needed to find the keys.

I worried if we had to go back inside the station to snatch them. Tom didn’t want to do that either. She said that would mean going back to Biggs. Having to explain whatever plan she cooked up and possibly asking for permission. I wondered if he was still in that room, comforting Judy. I didn’t want to mind going back, but Tom insisted on searching every inch of the garage before we did that.

“What's your deal with Biggs?” I had to ask.

“I don’t have a deal with him!” she teased, digging through shelves of paint cans, “I only have a deal with you.”

“It seems like you don’t want to like him.”

“I’m just doing what I think is best for you.”

“And what is best for me?” I tested.

She didn’t answer, for she found a rack of key rings at the back wall of the garage. Two rows of three gold hooks held six rings of keys on a corkboard. Any one of these could be the key to the ford. Tom unhooked every ring and held them all in her arms. She brought the mess back to the ford, cradling the stack of jingling metal like a baby. The coffin doors to the car were already unlocked. So she hopped into the driver side and I climbed in shotgun. What an odd little car. The front seats were connected to one with no shoulder rest or gear shift in the middle. The stick stuck out from the floor and rose up high to the dashboard. Like a magic staff to control the engine. Clean beige wrapped around the seat, the inside of the doors and the dash board. The floor had a nice shag carpet as well. While Tom looked for the ignition behind the trash can lid sized wheel, I looked at myself in the rear view mirror. It was like a mirror for a bicycle. Small and round, perfectly encasing my face when I got myself in the right angle. Tom dropped the mess of key rings on the seat between us. She was going to try every one in a long and tedious trial and error method. While she flipped through the keys of the first ring, I looked out the windshield. I could see through the crystal designs just fine. We needed to jack this car fast before Biggs and Judy got suspicious. To distract myself, I picked up a ring to see if I could find a key that would match up with the car.

“Have you ever stolen a car?”

“No.” she answered, “But considering my first time, this is going rather well I think.”

“I never thought I’d be doing this.”

“Lighten up!” she said, “This is still for justice!”

Right, that's what this was all for. Not for any selfish reasons like redemption or to feel good about myself. I couldn’t feel good about any of this. I leaned back in shotgun and waited for her to get this baby purring. Speaking of shotguns, I leaned back to see one of those displayed in the back window. A black duffle bag hid back there as well. I opened the glove compartment to find old winter scarves. 

“Got it!” Tom cheered, revving the engine to life.

“Great.” I tried to sound equally as cheery, but it came out sarcastic, “Wait, let me open the garage door.”

“Oh… I wanted to crash through it, but sure!”

Tom drove us down an odd street I didn’t know existed. Strangely this road hid close to my office, west of the superstitious street. Here, every building appeared to be made out of old cardboard. I saw a shoe store made from giant shoe boxes to the right. To the left, I saw a grocery store made out of boxes used to carry produce. They couldn’t have been made from real cardboard though. It had to be some aesthetic choice. Not a streetlamp stood by the sidewalks and I couldn’t see anything else that could provide light. I wondered what this little nook of the city did when the sun set. No one else walked on the sidewalks and no other cars drove by. It felt like a ghost town, or a city of a child’s imagination. There had to be cats coming through at some times. I could see remnants of recent civilization. I caught a glimpse down an alley between a coffee shop made from giant cans and a smoke shop made from cigar boxes. On the walls, I saw graffiti. Words and symbols I couldn't make out, looking as if drawn with crayon. Hell, when I looked back at the road, the dividers keeping the lanes apart had the same childish look. Tom drove down this road like she owned it. I asked her, “Do you live here?”

She answered, “No!” very quickly.

“Where do you live?”

“Uh…” she stalled, “Oh! We’re coming close to where we need to be!”

“Where is that?”

She did not answer. I promised to trust her, but this street started to give me second thoughts. I began to feel at her mercy while sitting trapped in this stolen car on a road I didn’t know. I wanted to trust her, I really did, but I couldn’t feel certain whether I knew her well or not. Last night, we were very up close and personal about each other, but that was physically. I just wished she emotionally could tell me what was up. 

The road, while in some ways colorful and innocent looking gave me the creeps like I didn’t know I could have. Like some scary ghost could pop out of the alleys at any moment. This unsettling feeling grew worse when the sun began to set. What a short day, I thought, but I knew I was buckled up for a long night. When the comforting rays of the sun left, the street changed for the worst. As we drove down the way, more and more crayon graffiti became apparent. Drawings of deformed cat faces and symbols of a language I could not recognise. These were drawn in the fronts of every building for all to see. No longer hiding in the back ways. When the sky turned from happy blue to depressing black, I saw where the street got its lights. The graffiti glowed. Cat faces glittered in haunting purple and blue colors while the symbols shined pink and green. This place is haunted, no doubt. Even the yellow dividers on the road lit up. 

When I started to believe this horror show would never end, Tom turned left into a wider alley. No graffiti decorated the cardboard walls. Instead, I saw blotches of black oil and red liquid. Without the glowing light of the possessed drawings, the alley quickly plunged into darkness. Tom had to turn on the brights to guide her the rest of the way. With the headlight on, we had tunnel vision into the wormhole to hell. Odd little objects littered the pavement. Oil cans, dropped automobile tools and what looked like sticks of chalk. Tom had to run over all these. It started to feel cold inside the car. I looked at the dash and didn’t see any button for air conditioning or heating. Just a police radio. The cold swept in like a phantom hiding in the car with us. I almost wanted to hug Tom for comfort, but she scared me a little too. She had this determined, odd scowl. Staring down the one way rode without making a sound. I dared not to talk.

Finally, the haunted ride came to an end with a red brick wall stopping the alley. A door illuminated with a single light bulb up top waited for us at the right wall. Meanwhile, I saw the shape of a cat’s skull in the oil stains on the left. 

“We’re here.” Tom said in a grim voice.

“Where is here?”

“A little place I know.” She said, reaching for the duffle bag in the back, “Hey, get those scarves out of that glove compartment.”

I obeyed and asked what for.

“If we want info from the Ferals, we need to be as aggressive as them.” she told, taking the shotgun from the back window, “But we can’t be recognized, right?”

“Tom… what are we doing?”

She didn’t answer. While she popped open her door, she told me to use a scarf to cover my face and have my pistol ready. Just in case. She hopped out, so I did too. With a handful of winter covers in my hands, I looked down the alley we drove through. The dark tunnel appeared endless. If we walked down there without a light, we would have ended up lost in the deep forever. Tom left the headlights on. I watched her pass the beams as she walked around the car’s front. She reached my side and took the other blue scarf in my hand. As she wrapped it over her muzzle, she told me to cover myself with the black one. I did just what she said. Tom had the duffle bag in one hand and the shotgun in the other. With a nod, telling me we were ready, she turned and headed for the door. I followed, reaching for the gun in my coat. At the door, Tom looked at me. I could see her emerald eyes and nothing else. With her gun hand, she raised three fingers. She lowered one, leaving only two left. Then she lowered another, leaving one left. When the last finger lowered, she kicked open the door.

We charged into a foul smelling room with broken walls, exposing the insulation and a flaking ceiling on the verge of collapse. I saw two tables jury rigged from saw dust wood and fence posts. Chemistry sets bubbled atop the tables. Pipes moved green liquid and spouts let out the foul steam. Two cats were stationed behind these tables. Our sudden ambush set them on their toes. The one on the right looked more like a rat than any feline. He had a long, crooked face with jaws full of yellowed, splintered fangs. His eyes like harvest moons on a stormy night glared at ours. Under his golf cap, I saw his ears pull back. Ears with many holes like swiss cheese. From his grey overalls, he pulled out a switchblade. But when he saw us packing heat, he dropped the knife to the table. I recognized this cat from somewhere. His hunched body and gangly physique looked familiar. When he talked, I knew where he was from, “Wat dah hell is dis hold up, eh?” That accent. This cat’s name was Boston.

“Alright boys.” Tom took initiative, “I want nip and I want answers. So sit your asses down!”

The other cat on the left squealed like a pig and held his hands as high as he could. We looked alot like a mouse rather than a cat. A tiny little dude, much younger than any of us. I couldn’t see much of his face, since he wore a doctor’s mask to protect his nose from the fumes. His eyes were bloodshot and resembled rubies in the rough. Covering his cookies and cream colored fur, he wore a butchers apron, a white t-shirt and skinny jeans, hugging his weirdly feminine stature.

“Oh Jeez! Oh my!” He gasped, “Boston, this isn't part of the initiation, is it?”

Boston hissed at the kid, “Shut it Austin! Play it cool!”

Tom pointed the shotgun to the rows of shoe drawers at the left wall. I looked to see labels for every drawer. Odd names were written on torn scraps of paper. Names like: Hot and zesty, Tuna surprise and Brain gravy. Tom waved the gun again and ordered, “Get an ounce of each and put it in the bag!”

Boston sighed and said, “Austin, you heard the lady. Do what she says.”

While Austin opened a drawer of ‘cheese delight’, Tom leaned over to me and whispered, “Come on, intimidate them. Ask questions. I can’t keep them in line by myself.”

I cleared my throat, pointed my pistol at Boston and shouted, “Where’s your boss?”

“Huh?”

“Where’s your boss!” I raised my voice as hard as I could, “You heard me!”

“I- he’s in jail. He’s in jail!”

Tom roared, “Bullshit!”

“Hey, language.” Scolded Boston.

“My virgin ears!” Cried Austin. 

The Austin kid fetched a plastic sandwich bag of green plants from all twenty eight drawers on the left wall. He put these in the duffel bag, all while under the barrel of the twelve gauge. I looked at the duffle, filled to the top with green goodies. It was nip. Austin retreated back behind the table and said that was all the stock they had. 

I asked him in a more calm voice, “Where do you get this from?”

Boston answered for me, “If I knew, I wouldn’t tell ya.”

“It has to come from somewhere.”

“Why do you care?” He growled, “You got enough.”

“Tell me!”

Tom backed me up, “Yeah, tell em!”

With his hands raised, Boston balled up fists and bit his snake tongue, “Someone ships it to us in trucks.” he spat out, “Blank shipping trucks.”

“Show us!” Tom demanded.

With an odd chuckle, Boston unballed his fists and said, “Oh I’ll show you them all right.”

Austin and Boston marched down a tight hall with their hands behind their heads. Me and Tom followed close behind, pushing the barrels of our guns to their backs. The hall led to a door, out to the other side of the red brick wall. Back outside, we found ourselves in a huge parking lot. Most parking spaces were left empty, but the spaces closest to the left held three of those blank shipping containers. 

“Oh wow, oh man.” Austin started to hyperventilate, “I really shouldn’t have quit school.”

“Cool it!” scowled Boston. He turned around and said to us, “Here they are.”

I looked at the container. The block of metal was huge. White, blank walls, rising a telephone pole’s height above us. Silver hinges held the walls together by the edges. We faced a backside where a silver lever could open the inside. Tom ordered Boston to open it and he happily obliged. He pulled the lever and spread the doors apart. I didn’t see any nip inside. Instead I saw two other cats playing poker at a little table. Those two black cats jumped from their seats and whipped out golden pistols from their holsters. The left cat, covering his identity with a gas mask, reached for two more guns on the table and threw them over to the two we held up. Now armed, Austin and Bostin turned on us with pieces of their own. Me and Tom backed up. The two in the trailer jumped out onto the lot and approached.

With a cackle, Boston said, “Now how bout we rethink yur little plan?”

I looked to Tom. The shotgun was shaking in her hands. Looking back at the four, I turned my pistol to the sky. “Now this… this is a bit of a misunderstanding.” I stuttered.

“Ya got dat right.”

“We- we were just doing our jobs.” I nudged Tom, “Right?”

She nodded, “Yeah! This is for… what we believe in! Or some shit.”

“We should have talked first and waved guns later.” I said, “How about we return what's yours and-”

“Hold the phone.” boston hissed, squinting his eyes. He lowered his gun and stomped over to me. My legs started to shake and I dropped my gun. He put his crooked face too close to mine. Even while I had my face covered, I could smell his breath. He raised a claw and with one quick swipe, tore off my scarf.

“We meet again, Black Cat.”

“Hi…” I said, “How you doing?”

He backed up and raised his gun.

I whipped my head back to her. She had dropped the shotgun, holding her shaking hands to her head. I heard a gun cock back in front. With a gasp, I shouted, “Tom! Run!” and booked it for the door. Tom followed my tail, with the bag still in her hands. The explosions of gunfire rang. I saw the door I ran too become peppered with bullet holes. Time slowed once again. I opened the door and used it as a shield as I waited for her to get safely in. Once both of us jumped into the hall I slammed the door and turned tail. As we ran back to the lab, I heard Boston out their say, “What are y’all waiting for? Get the Callie killer!”

We barreled into the lab so fast, I knocked over a chemistry set and she tripped over the stools behind the tables. Glass tubes shattered on the concrete floor, spilling rancid, steaming green liquid all over. We splashed through the hot puddle as we reached the front door. 

We reached the alley, where the car waited with its high beams still blaring. Tom jumped in the driver side and I threw myself in shotgun. Back in our vehicle but still not out of the fire. She threw the bag of nip in the back and started the car up. Thank goodness it didn’t stall like cars usually did in tense moments like this. She pulled the stick in reverse and stomped the peddle. I didn’t have time to put on a seat belt. The sudden backward burst of speed sent me flying into the windshield.

“That was crazy!” Tom screamed, “Holy shit I can’t believe that happened!”

I adjusted myself in my seat and huffed, “Let's not ever do something like that ever again.”


	8. Chapitre Sept

She took off her scarf and gunned it backward out of the haunted alley. I watched ahead in the tunnel of light to see if any of those goons decided to follow. The shaking of my body grew worse rather than dissipated as time rolled on. My vision started to shrink to a pinhole as I stared at the light beams ahead. Felt like my soul was desperately clinging to my mortal body. All my muscles whittled away on my bone and my guts stirred like someone threw them into a blender. Tom panted like a dog as she gunned it, looking over her shoulder into the deep we plowed back into. I could hear her mumbling profanities and prayers under her shaking breaths. The cardboard walls stopped so suddenly and Tom stomped her foot into the brake. All that reverse momentum ceased in an instant. The force pushed us back into our seats like we were in a collision. I was surprised the airbags didn’t go off. We rocketed out of the alley, back onto the graffiti glowing street. Out of the frying pan I wouldn’t have felt safe until we drove far away from this street and never returned. Tom spun the car around until the wheels were aligned with the dividers and shifted gears to gun it forward. Once again, both of us slammed our backs into the seats. Her breathing started to calm. My shaking slowed but the realization of what I just did hit me. I was apart of some robbery. We held up members of the Feral family. That Boston cat, his voice matched with the voice of who shot up my office. He took off my mask and recognized me as the ‘Callie Killer’. I pissed him off. He was probably planning on ruining my life further.

When Tom drove out of the street onto a more normal way with streetlights and proper buildings, she sat more relaxed and slowed to a cruise. The crazy cat planned all that nonsense and didn’t tell me until I was trapped in full commitment. I asked her with a bit of aggression, “Have you done something like that before?”

“No! Of course not!” she bit back at me, “But it went very well!”

“No it didn’t.” I growled, “Boston saw my face, I shouted your name. They’re going to hunt us down.”

She ended the argument with, “They already were!”

We sat through the rest of the ride in silence. Tom parked the car at the curb of a furniture store at the very west end of the superstitious street. She hopped out and told me to follow her up the sidewalk to a place where we would hunker down. I asked her why we didn’t just go back to the police station and she said she’d rather have rabies than go back there. We could have put the car back safely in its garage. No mobster would find it there and no one would have noticed it missing. But no, we had to have it Tom’s way. She didn’t want to hear any scolding from Biggs either. I didn’t understand her vendetta against the station and Biggs. I hopped out the car and stood near Tom.

“Oh shit! I almost forgot!” She ran back onto the street and opened the driver side door. Inside, she pulled out the massive bag, holding fifty something ounces of nip. Great, we just escaped from a robbery and now we had to walk up the road in public, carrying the biggest heap of evidence I’ve ever seen. This girl is going to get my badge revoked. 

We set off, ditching the getaway car at a closed furniture store. The owners of this store are going to have a heck of a morning tomorrow. After a few blocks, I saw the shoe shop, next door to my office. And there stood my home, still smoking in ruin. The blue awning above the door fell to the sidewalk. Torn to shreds from the onslaught of bullets. All the glass from my door laid shattered inside. Anyone could step in and steal whatever they pleased. Not that I had anything valuable anymore. Such a sad sight. I stood here, homeless.

We came up to the no tell motel, next door to Biggs’ ransacked office. An ugly, two story, rectangular building, painted with a puke green color. The neon lights wrapping around the roof didn’t light up the night. I looked up the sign poll and couldn’t read any of the words hanging up there. All those lights appeared to be busted out as well. The motel remained nameless. Tom skipped into the parking lot. No other cars parked here. I peered up to the second floor and couldn’t find a single window with the lights on. This joint could have been out of business. A breeding ground for the homeless. I followed Tom up the rickety set of steel stairs to the second floor platform. She knew exactly what room we needed to hide up in. I think she lied to me when I asked if she did a heist like that before. She stopped at room number B6 and opened the door without having to unlock it. The light inside turned on and I followed in. 

Tom must have felt this disgusted when she first stepped into my office. The bare wood brown carpet crunched under my shoes. Bits of confetti and crumbs kicked up with every step I took. The walls inside were as tasteless as the paint job outside. I saw green limestone walls, cracked where the rectangular wall lights buzzed. The lights served its second purpose as a graveyard for bugs. Flakes of popcorn fell from the white ceiling. A residential area for spiders. So many cobwebs. Tom placed the duffel bag on the coffee table by the door. A round table made out of sawdust as it seemed. Spoiled stacks of takeout boxes also sat on the table. That's where most of the foul, rotten smell came from. I watched her take a seat at the edge of the second one person bed at the left end of the room. A stack of women’s clothes rested on top of the bed’s tacky green sheets. I sat on the end of the other bed. For a good long while, we sat there in silence. I saw her turn around on the bed and fish out a black blouse, beige corduroy pants and underwear from the stack. She took these clothes and moseyed into the bathroom in the back of the room. I looked at the clothing pile, the spoiled food and the personal items hiding on the nightstand. Now I felt bad for her. 

The phone started to ring on the nightstand. Tom burst out of the bathroom, all dressed. She ran between the two beds and picked up the receiver. I didn’t see her put it up to her ear however. She placed it next to the dial and pressed the plungers on top, ending the call before it began. 

I wanted to ask what that was about, but more importantly I wanted to know, “So what now?”

With a coy purr she said, “Now I have a little something for you.” and sat next to me. With her palm, she pushed me down onto the dirty sheets. I watched her crawl on top of me. Maybe this night didn’t need to be terrible after all. “Tell me, what do you know about the effects of nip?” she asked. She had an odd idea of foreplay. I tried to remember while she rested her butt on my pelvis. 

“I’ve only read the effects,” I started, “Apparently it takes you to some magical land of euphoria.”

“Exactly!” she congratulated, rubbing her hand on my chest, “As crazy as it sounds, a key to the source’s location hides within that land.”

“What?”

She laid her chest onto mine and asked, “Think you can find that key for us?”

I raised my arms and lifted her off me, “You’re asking me to take a hit of nip.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she insisted, “It's a good learning experience.”

“Out of the question, Tom.”

“But don’t you want to find the source?” she pouted, “Don’t you want to help me?” 

When I pushed her completely off, I sat at the bedside and contemplated everything. After everything I did for her today. I stole a car and held mobsters at gunpoint. But taking a hit of the thing I strived to destroy was too far. That story she fed me sounded like mythical bullcrap. I can not divulge that stuff. What would Biggs think?

“Kuro, think about the cats you’ve met who’ve done it.” she said behind me, “They all act like they know something out of this world.”

“How… how do you know that?”

“Do this… not for me, but for us.” She begged, rubbing my shoulders, “I’ll watch over and guide you through the trip.”

“Tom… I can’t-”

“It’s not scary. It will feel good. It’ll feel like… like a hole is being filled.”

The air started to feel thin. I stood from the bed and paced the small room. Two halves of me went to war. The black side of me and white side. I tried to hold onto the righteous side, while she pulled me to the path that would rock my world. I wish I had a drink. Something to calm my nerves and whisk away the common sense I clung to. I tried to think of a time where a cop needed to do something like this. There used to be myths at the police academy. One initiation class involved taking a hit to understand what addicts put themselves through. That never happened while I was there, but I did get tasered once. I went to a magic land in my dreams and I couldn’t taste anything for hours afterward. Maybe the nip would be the same. An initiation for me to understand this case better. Tom waited for my decision on the bed. She promised to supervise me through it. I wasn’t sure if she ever took nip, but she sure knew a lot about it. She rose from the bed and stood next to me. She stood so much taller than me. I had to tilt my head all the way up to see her eyes. She held my face in her paws and whispered, “Five minutes. That's as long as it lasts and you will have those answers you’ve been looking for forever.”

“Five minutes.” I repeated.

“And after,” she said, “I’ll treat you to fifteen minutes of heaven.”

“Screw it.” I decided, “I’ll do it.”

I stared into the mountain of assorted drugs in the bag. So many sandwich baggies with different labels and so many differing colors. I didn’t know nip came in all colors of the rainbow. Something to wash away the depressing noir of the city. I didn’t know where to begin, or what bag to pick. Tom took a bag of bright yellow weeds and said, “This one is the easiest on first timers.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve… heard from others.” she answered, not looking at me, “don’t ask who.”

I read the label on the bag. It said ‘Ice Dream Cone’. I hoped it actually did taste like ice cream. Though I doubted a dried psychedelic plant could. I took the bag in my hand. I could not believe what I was about to do. I didn’t feel like me anymore. Me would never do this, even when filled with the strongest alcohol in the world. We should have gone to the liquor store to get something to wash this down. It was too late for that though. I opened the bag and took in the smell of it. An earthy, woodsy smell. Almost like wet dog and mold. A pinch of this stuff was supposedly enough. So I fetched a clove in claws and held it like I was about to doctor up a steak. I just had to put it in my mouth and swallow. Then I would sit back and wait to be teleported to the magical land. I took a deep breath and counted down.

Three.

Two.

One.

I shoved the clove in my mouth. For some dumb reason, I chewed it instead of swallowing straight up. This did not taste like ice cream. It tasted like a pillow case drenched in cat piss. I didn’t want this to get stuck in my teeth, so I forced it down my throat. That was it. The drugs boiled in my stomach and would soon take over. 

“Good… good.” Tom said, patting my back. 

It didn’t feel good. So many worries flooded my mind. What I would do during the trip, what I would say, What others would think if they found out about this. No good would come from the dare, I already knew. I sat on the bedside again, closed my eyes and waited.

With my eyes closed, I hoped the first sign of hallucinations would be visual. I would be safe from it if I pretend to be blind. On the other paw, an auditory trick would scare me more. I felt the bed sink next to me. Tom sat at my side. Either her or some crazy monster in my brain. It was her. I heard her voice sooth, “Just relax. Ride the wave.”

I opened my eyes and didn’t see her there. I looked around the room. The walls started to melt.


	9. Chapitre Huit

The limestone on all four walls liquified in a creamy goo. Like ice cream on a brutal summer day. I could still feel the sinking feeling where I sat. Tom didn’t sit next to me, but I saw the spot sinking into the bed. As if an invisible boulder weighed down the mattress so much it began to deform. An unseen hydraulic press squashed the bed along with me, who still sat at it’s edge. I tried to stand, but some powerful force kept me locked in place. Strong arms, clawing into my shoulders, ordering me to stay put and endure the torture. I found the strength to best these claws and stand on my legs. The world shook, like a colossal tremor tore through the planet. As I held my wobbling legs in place, I saw the limestone ice cream walls falling in steaming heaps on the carpet. Long lost secret held within the now fallen walls. I couldn’t glimpse into the mysteries right away. That annoying force crept on my shoulders yet again. I looked at my arms and saw thick splatters of melted ceiling staining my black coat. I looked up. The ceiling tore away to reveal the most meaningful thing I’ve ever seen in all my miserable nine lives.   
I saw the sun. A giant yin yang symbol in the emerald sky. Inside the yin, I saw a small black cat, sleeping in a blanket. A young and pure reflection of my past self. On the yang side, I saw a bigger white cat with a long, flowing beard. An image of Biggs from the future. An old, wise cat who could lead whoever came under his wing to serenity. Something began to blur his image. A fog in the shape of a white cat in a red dress. The fog quickly morphed into the figure of a long, slender grey cat, wearing nothing. Finally the fog changed into a flower, blooming in the deepest green. When the fog vanished, Biggs did not appear in the symbol. I looked back to the other side and didn’t see myself either. The inseparable pair of black and white bled together until the symbol became an earthly sun. Vibrant, orange, crying out it’s rays. A voice resonated from within the holy light. A gentle woman’s voice. I heard her speak to me. Not into my ears but into the cavity in my heart.   
“Welcome my child to the place of your origin. The place where you belong. Here, the grass grows red, the sky gleams green and the sun never sets. Here you can bask in the great blessings forever. The great land of Kathens, the place of your roots. This is your home.”  
A sun beam pointed to the north. At least it felt like it pointed north. I felt no sense of direction in this alien world. Out of this earth but somehow not foreign. Like the voice said, my now bare feet stood on a field of ruby red grass. I could feel its gentle blades tickling my feet. Past the field, I saw mountains of hotter red and sun kissed orange in the far distances. I wanted to run to them, but I felt these landscapes were not meant to be my destination. The sky glittered as if the land was encased in a flawless emerald. I could see stars from outside the royal green tint. Faint sights of other worlds. Endless stories, others were destined for. The sun hung inside the emerald with me. So bright, but not hurting my eyes. So warm, but not causing a sweat. Again, I looked to where the beam pointed to. Ahead, between twin peaks of sherbet orange, I saw a path to somewhere I didn’t know yet. I needed to know where the path led. It was why I came here. Nothing weighed me down. I could stand and walk freely. The key to everything waited beyond.   
An unpleasant image stopped my journey up the road. A vanity mirror, like the one at Tom’s dressing room. I saw the crystal image of a cat inside. A black cat. I dared to stray off the path for a moment to take a closer look. The black cat in the mirror was not me. It was her. The puzzle piece that couldn’t fit. The edge that stabbed at my side. It was Callie, alive and well. A second dark side to create a black hole. I heard her voice. The voice I had not heard in months and could only hear in my dreams.  
“I’m still here. I will be here. I’ll see you around, kitty.”  
The mirror shattered after she said this. Her image disappeared inside. Her words would stick with me, real or not.   
Before I reached the end, a second vanity brought me to a detour. A cat waited for me in it’s reflection as well. A white cat. Not Biggs, but someone smaller, dressed in red. It was her. The one that came and went like a shooting star. Her back was turned, so I couldn’t see her beautiful face no matter how I tilted my vision. A burning desire made me want to have more. A wild urge I could not fight back. I didn’t want to fight it back, but something about the vanity told me this image was not meant for me. A war of hearts had to rage on, between the looking glass. The mirror shattered to bits on top of the vanity. I could see the image no longer so I trekked on.  
The ended between the sherbert hills to a big clearing of fire hot red grass. A big white cat in a white robe waited for me in the center. The cat turned to face me. It was Biggs, a couple inches taller than how I remembered him. His facial fur sank down to the grass and his head hair covered most of his face. It looked like he had been standing out here for months. Despite not being able to see him clearly, I could hear his deeper voice. He said some wise words my fuzzy brain couldn’t make sense of. I somehow knew he spoke intelligently however. I still felt as if things were slowly becoming more clear as I listened. He raised an arm and pointed to the sky. I looked to see the emerald and the sun had disappeared. In their place, I saw the city from the top down. I recognised the roofs of my office and the street made from cardboard at this bird's eye view. A beam of light caught my attention to a building, towering over the rest. I knew this place, I’ve been there before. A monument of white stone shaped like a carp's tail. Blue neon hugged the tower. The light beam shining down on the ceiling was like a waypoint. A beacon, begging me to end things here. I looked back to this surface, but didn’t find Biggs. I looked all around the clearing and over some hills, but he seemed to have disappeared. I started to feel an exhaustion. Like my muscles and bones were melting. The hills melted as well. Liquefying like ice cream in hot weather. That unseen force tugged at my shoulders again. Invisible claws digging into my coat and shaking me awake. 

My eyes reopened. I stared at a popcorn ceiling, flaking into my pupils. I felt my body, resting on a lumpy and overly firm mattress. I tried moving, but my muscles still felt like molasses. Someone looked over in front of me, blocking my wonderful view of the ceiling. The cat who forced me into the alien world. I heard her voice call out as she shook me, “Hey, are you out of there yet? It’s been seven hours.” She sat me up on the headboard. I saw her staring at me, I heard her voice and understood her words, but I couldn’t respond. It felt like I was coming out of anesthesia. Awake but not all there. A part of me still clung to that magical land, begging me to stay at my origin. She held up a little bottle of store bought hard liquor and poured it into my drooling open mouth. The flaming kick burned my tongue and blew my brains out. My body sent a gag reflex, making me spit out the poison. I was all back on earth once again. I saw Tom sitting next to me on the uncomfortable bed with a genuine worried face. The apartment and all its walls seemed to be intact. The beds, the table, everything looked the same from when I left. The taste of ice dream cone festered in the back of my mouth. I took the bottle from Tom and downed the glorious poison. Once all the sour taste was replaced with intense fire, I looked to her and asked, “Did you say seven hours?”  
“Yeah.” she sighed, “I was actually worrying about you.”  
“If that shit is easy on newcomers, I don’t want to know what the hard stuff is like.”  
“What did you see?” she asked, hardly giving me a moment.  
That place felt half like a dream and half like an alternate reality. I could never forget it. Those images flashed in my mind as if I saw them in photos. I told her about the yin yang sun, the grass and the hills. I skipped over the personal stuff about me, Biggs, Luna and Callie. The dream concluded with a sort of map pointing to the fish tower in neon lights.   
“Did you hear that voice?” Tom asked, “The one saying telling you about Kathens?”  
“How do you know about that?”  
“Everyone’s first trip has that voice. Like it's a god or something.”  
“Tom… you could have told me about that rather than forcing me to experience it myself.”  
“W-well everyone’s trip is different near the end!” she gave an excuse, “What was that tower?”  
“It’s the casino.” I recalled, “The Ferals might own that place.”  
“Great!” she cheered, “We can go there, sneak up to the top floors and shoot up the place!”  
“Tom, that suicide run we did last night, the trip you put me through. It’s too much. There has to be another way to find the source.”  
“There is no other way!” She screamed, “You have to trust me. You must stick with me.”  
“Why?” I roared back, “Why do I need to be with you more than Biggs? Just tell me why!”  
“Why?” she stuttered, standing from the bed, “Well because…”   
I impatiently waited for her next excuse.  
“Because…”  
“I’m listening.”  
“Because I’m pregnant.”


	10. Chapitre Neuve

“Are you telling the truth?”  
“Uh… of course.” she mumbled, biting her tongue, “It’s your kitten.”  
That nauseating feeling hit me again. Like time slowed to a worm’s crawl. My mouth burned with alcohol and the lingering sensation like I was going to vomit. My legs suddenly didn’t want to support my weight and I hit my back on the wall.  
Tom gasped and said, “Are you going to pass out on me again?”  
I heard these words loud and clear, but I couldn’t find the will to respond to her. Almost out of my own control, I started mumbling to myself, “I’m going to be a father. I’m going to be a father. I’m going to be a father.”   
Tom rammed the fact into my head, “Yes. Yes you are.”   
Swallowing away the nausea, I pushed myself off the wall and told her, “I… um… I should see Biggs.”  
“No, you shouldn’t-  
“Tom, don’t keep me away from him. I need to take this in.” 

I began walking down the sidewalk. I wanted to get back and return the car we stole. The road felt longer going down than when we went up last night. I could see the car, still abandoned at the shop in the distance. It would take a while to get to it. This gave me time to think. Think about everything and nothing at all. All these things I’ve done, leading up to here. I did wrong so early. I ignored all the signs, all the people trying to stop me. The people I trusted and loved. The advice I’ve been given all my life. I threw it all out the window only a few nights ago. Lost all common sense. I should have stuck with Biggs and done exactly what he said. Nothing bad came when I trusted him. My other side I should have never neglected. I was lost and confused. I still am, now more than ever.   
Now I had this news. This new weight on my shoulders. One I could never get rid of. Something I needed to deal with right. This weight is powerful. Too much, I could barely trek down this sidewalk with it.   
I wondered if my father ever felt this way, when he saw me in that basket that one rainy night. It doesn’t justify what he inevitably did with me though. I didn’t want to be him. However he dealt with the news, I would not repeat.

I put the car back in the garage. With it as if it had never left, I stormed back into the police station. The main desks always appeared empty at all hours of the day. I saw Judy and Biggs at the front desk. Both ran to me when I stumbled through the doors, like I’ve been walking in a storm for days. Judy reached me first and hugged me with her big, strong arms. I didn’t expect it. We never got along, but here, she hugged me like a lost family member. Biggs ran up next. I half expected him to look mad or at least disappointed. When he hugged my other side, I knew he was just as worried and relieved to see his little brother. Judy at my left side, Biggs at my right. This almost felt cathartic. I knew I had good people to support me, no matter what stupid crap I did. But with what I had to tell them, this might change things. When Biggs let go, He bent to my eye level and asked, “Where did you disappear off to? Me and Judy were-” he stopped and took a good look at me, “You look like you’ve seen a dog.”

Me and Biggs, talked in the lounge room. Just me and him. We had a bottle of scotch and two glasses. Somehow, I didn’t have any appetite for booze. No amount would get me ready for this. I told him about what we did when me and Tom ditched him here yesterday. I told this long, detailed story, as some excuse and mostly to buy time. Time to sum up the strength to tell him the big news. I told him about how we stole the undercover car, rode down some creepy street I’ve never seen and how we held up the Feral boys at gunpoint while we robbed them. We could have killed those two. At that time, I was almost sure Tom would have slipped her finger and popped one in Boston. He was our enemy and he wanted me dead, but I didn't want that to happen. We made off with so much nip and drove to the motel, right next door to his office. There I had the strangest vacation of my life. A vacation to another realm.   
“You did that?” Biggs gasped, “Jeez you really need to be more careful!”  
“I should have been more careful. I should have.” As I repeated this truth to myself, I breathed in deep, and said it, “Biggs… Tom is pregnant.”  
“Huh?” he didn’t understand the impact just yet, “Well… she should be more careful too.”  
“It’s mine.”  
I’ve never seen Biggs so white. All his color, all his remaining patches of grey fur disappeared. He took the scotch bottle and poured almost half of it in his mouth. “So…” He said, “what are you going to do?”  
This was something I had to figure out sooner rather than later. I left Tom for the moment, so now was the time to think. She was at the motel, presumably thinking about it too. When I got back, we would make a couple’s decision. Right here and right now, I said, “I’m not going to do what my father did. I’m going to be there for this kid.”

I drove back to the motel with the undercover car. This time with the permission of the police. This car was the safest way for me to traverse the city. No Feral boys stalking the streets would see me in it. I rehearsed what I would say to her a hundred times during the trip. I guessed this feeling was as ready feeling as I could possibly feel. I parked in one of the spots in the motel lot and marched up those rickety stairs. I almost forgot the number of her room. Bee six.   
When I stepped in, she jumped from her right bed and rushed to hug me. She hugged me so hard, her stomach rammed into mine and we both almost had a shared concussion. She really should be more careful if she was carrying our child. I pushed her off, swallowed the nothing in my mouth and tried to tell her what I decided. Weird, I said it so many times in my head, but actually sawing it felt impossible.   
“Tom, I’ve made a decision. I’m going to the casino and I want you to rest here and look after our kitten.”  
It looked like she scowled at me. “No, I have to go with you.” she hissed, “I have to get-”  
“Tom… please listen to me.” I insisted, holding the sides of her chest, “I know we haven’t been together for a long time, but I feel this connection that I can not explain. With you, it's almost like this hole in my heart is finally being filled after all these years. I think I love you.”  
I saw those beautiful emerald eyes lose their sparkle. I waited for a return of that love, but she started swallowing hard. Like she had a whole lot of nothing choking her mouth as well. Finally, she said, “I… Um… Kuro, thank you.”  
That was it. She had to stay here, while I went into the dragon’s den and got myself killed. All for her, for our kitten. We kissed, and I headed for the door.  
“Wait!” she stopped me, “I don’t want you to get hurt. So maybe I should tell you… uh…”  
“What?”  
“Nothing. Just please be safe.”


	11. Chapitre Dix

I drove the black beauty down the road I promised myself to never take again. I was allowed to take this car back to the nameless motel, but I did promise to bring it right back afterward. This trip was illegal and incredibly stupid. I knew no one wanted me to do this. Not Biggs or Judy, nor Tom. I didn’t want to be doing this, but I needed to. To end this feud once and for all. To end the danger so that me, Tom and my future child can be safe. I drove down the street I begged myself never to visit again. This street held too many painful memories. A black road with no streetlights, but plenty of billboards. Advertisements stamped onto the back walls of the sardine packed apartment buildings. I passed ten boards and nine of those boards advertised my destination. Come waist away your money and inhibitions at the Nine Lives Casino. Before I reached the fish tail of dreams, I had to pass by the place that hurt me the most.

The upside down pyramid. A monument defying gravity, made from green stone and yellow cement. Like some temple from an alien planet. Tons of cats lived here. Window panes lined every section of the pyramid. As if the building glared with a thousand eyes. A red stone archway led to the massive parking lot surrounding the building. The words on this archway read: Pride Lands Apartment Complex. The place certainly looked complex but the building’s history was an even bigger mess. My history with the place was the cherry on top of the backward cake. This is the place where I met the other black half of me. The half that couldn’t fit and disappeared from my life too soon. I almost expected to see her looking off her balcony. I almost saved her, but I was too weak. I had to let go of the fallen angel eventually, now that I had Tom, but how could I? Lingering here would do me no good. I had a mission to commit to, so I drove on.

I arrived at the nine lives casino. The giant fish tail wrapped in neon lights. In the mid day, the building looked more like a dead whale, washed too far up on the shore. No lights shined and no color fancied up the view. Just another dull building, sticking out from a mess of stale civilization. It was one of those buildings that came to life at night. Like all the buildings at LAs Vegas. I wondered if Tom wanted to go there with me after all this was resolved. A good place to relax and get to know eachother better. Not a place to raise a kid, but maybe a good spot to have a wedding. 

I entered the casino restaurant. Jack Cat Thick’s was the joint’s name. I’ve been here before. Once on a half date, half interrogation. Things did not seem to be different here from a few weeks ago. Yet another snazzy place I had to drag myself to. Entering from the glass revolving door, I saw a big space with glittering black and white tiled floors. Frilled steel metal encased the walls. Like the inside of a trailer truck almost. I could see mine and everyone else’s distorted reflections. Booths with white shimmering tables and big red cushioned sofas lined the left and right walls. Two rows of small round tables and stools filled the center of the room. A big, complicated mess of vents blew freezing air into the place. The manager cranked up the AC, expecting this summer to actually be hot. Luckily, zesty smelling steam warmed me up a bit. Delicious scents of chicken and shrimp. I saw a lot of people. Hopefully enough to camouflage myself from any lurking Ferals. I remembered the theme of this place. Each waiter and waitress wore a costume of a famous character for their assigned area of the diner. On the left end, A group of cats dressed up as the scat cats from the Aristocats sang happy birthday to a kid with his family. A cute scene. I started to look forward to having that again. The left row of round tables in the center was handled by Felix the cat. Me and my date had him when we were here. Mehitabel from ShinBone Alley handled the center right tables while Garfield waited at the right wall booths. A cat in some disco outfit greeted me at the checkout booth right by the doors. Radical, arrow shaped shades, hair in the style of a bomb explosion, and a red and white striped overcoat. I recognised this guy and he recognised me.

“You’re back!” he cheered, “Where’s your lovely date?”

“Shes… away.” I answered painfully, “Listen, I’m not here for food. I need to find-”

“BLACK CAT!” screeched a horrid voice from the back of the diner, “CALLIE KILLER!”

The crowd of happy diners dropped all happy conversations and songs to look at the cat who yelled so loud. I looked and saw the cat with the biggest grudge anyone has ever had on me. The tall, lanky rat cat in a golf suit with a holster around his hunched shoulders. He brandished a long, old west wooden pistol, pointed above his head and shot up the vent at the ceiling. The crowd of excited cats and happy birthday changed to screams of terror and cries for help. The diner’s mood changed as if with a light switch. Couples ducted under their tables, waiters and waitresses clocked out early and my disco cat friend booked it out the revolving door. 

Boston aimed the old gun, ready to end our feud in blood. I ducted behind the check in counter just before the bullet had a chance to whiz through my skull. The bullet exploded from the rusted iron barrel with a fume of smoke. It buried into the freshly mopped tile, steaming in the hold it made for itself. Better the tile than my head. It seemed like Boston wanted to cut to the killing. No holdups and no interrogations this time. I took my pistol from my coat, ready to have a good old one on one stand off. Without looking, I aimed my gun out of the cover of the counter and fired into the diner. Cats screamed and I felt a tremor in the tile. Like someone dropped dead. I hoped I got him and not anyone else. I wasn’t going to peek my head out just yet. Someone out there returned fire. It didn’t hit me, but the bullet put holes in the stack of menus on top of the counter above me. I heard my enemy call out, “Come on. Ya killed Callie so easy, why can’t ya kill me?”

This pissed me off so much, I finally had it, “I did not kill Callie!”

He fired once again. The bullet cut through the counter and flew right between my arm and chest. That gun could cut through my defence easily. I had to move, but moving too quickly would kill me too soon. I didn’t look out intentionally, but I caught an instant where he kicked a family out from under a round table and tipped the table over to use as cover. Bastard was probably planning on flanking me. As the family barreled out of the restaurant safely, I looked for new means of cover. A loving couple on the left side of the round tables got the hint they could bail out of here safely, so they ran to the door, knocking their table to the side. This was my chance to reach safety as well, butI didn’t plan on leaving this building. I looked to my right for a split second and couldn’t see Boston. He hunched his snake like body perfectly behind his table as far as I could tell. He wasn’t looking at me and even if he was, he wouldn't have had the time to aim his weapon and shoot me in the split second I would switch covers. I breathed in silently, counted down from three, and booked it for that table. For the second and a half I ran out in the open, Boston did not take a pot shot at me. From here, I had a different angle. I had another couple hugging each other in fear under the upright table next to me. Ahead, I caught a peek of Boston's overly long snout, sticking out from his defense. I wanted to shoot him. Not to kill or even injure, but to let him know who had the upper hand. Time for a counter flank. I aimed for the tile just below his nose and pulled the trigger. My gunfire made the couple scream and Boston fell back, away from his table. My bullet cut through a white tile and stayed buried there, centimeters away from Boston’s foot. He toppled on his ass, exposed for another attack. I could have fired again and ended his sleazy life, but I hesitated. I watched him fumble on the floor for a minute before kicking another family away to use their table for cover. The table to the left, next to the last one. At that new slight angle, I couldn’t get a bead on him. For a while, I stayed behind my table and he huddled behind his. I think he didn’t know where I was. This gave me the best advantage. I could either flank him if I really did decide to kill him, or I could sneak through the diner to the rest of the casino. 

I did not plan on killing today. I couldn’t stomach doing such a thing, even if the guy wanted to kill me too. I wanted to go cover to cover through the tables and scared cats to the other end of the diner. Boston stayed hidden behind that table. I couldn’t see a hint of him so I wanted to believe he couldn’t see me. Breathing in again, I counted to three and crouch walked out of safety to the couple at my left. The guy gasped when I came by. I had to hush him and insist I wasn’t going to hurt anyone. These people needed to be silent for my stupid plan to work. Under this table with the guy and girl couple, I could see Boston’s rat tail dangling out from behind the table. His back faced my front. I could hopefully continue sneaking this way without him seeing me. When I passed this table, I came to another with a mother and daughter. Again I whispered, ‘I mean no harm. Please stay quiet.’ With those two calm, I moved to the last table with no one underneath. Here, I witnessed Boston turn around. We locked eyes, both of us out in the open at this angle. He flinched, stood on his grasshopper legs and aimed at me. I flinched too, hit my head on the table, and tipped it over in front of me. I got the table to shield my body before Boston shot me. His bullet stopped inside the table surface and not in my head. 

I heard him say, “Coward, Come out!” followed by a hoarse screaming at his end. That scream didn’t fit his voice at all. When I looked out, I saw him using an old woman as a cat shield. Through her cries for mercy, he said to me, “Either you die or she does!”

Goddamn this guy. My plan had to wait for the moment. My plan on not letting anyone die was way more important. He said it had to be either me or her. I could not let an innocent bystander die, but I wasn’t going to stand for my suicide today. He had her at his side. She stood exposed, but so did he. Guy didn’t understand the concept of a cat shield. Guess he was more focused on using her as bait. I could shoot him. Not to kill but to maim. Put him out for the count. Again, I didn’t want anyone to get hurt either, but if I could have him out for the count, this trek through the casino would be done much easier. One more time, I breathed in, counted down and stood straight up. I aimed and fired at him, face to face. The blast from my pistol rang throughout the diner. Cats screamed at the sudden loud noise. The bullet flew across the diner at super speed and stopped inside flesh. I didn’t hit him.

The old woman took hot metal to the shoulder. She cried, fell to the floor hard and didn’t move. I couldn’t have killed her. I couldn’t have handled the responsibility of ending an innocent life. I hit her shoulder. That wouldn’t have killed her. She must have passed out. The shock of what I did kept me still. Boston stood over her in a shock as well. When the moment passed, he snapped out of it and ran back to cover. He could have shot me, but instead I watched him hide back behind the first table. What I ended up being capable of must have scared him. 

I scared myself. I did a stupid, horrible thing that would hold dire consequences. I had to pay for that poor woman’s medical bills. She would probably sue me. That issue would have to come later though. I still stood on my feet. Out in the open for bullets to plow through me. I ducked back behind my table. I hid by the last table on the left while he hid at the first table on the right. As far apart as we could be in here. I looked behind me and saw the entrance to the gift shop. The place where I got this ruined fedora. A long, red checkout counter waited feet away from me. A big, solid chunk of safety. Without a second to prepare to throw myself back in danger. I dived away from my table and crawled to the counter. 

I felt very safe behind here. This miniature wall of granite and concrete could stop a grenade explosion. Boston couldn’t have known I scurried here either. This turned out to be the best idea I had today. When I looked to the corner, I found someone with the same idea. That kid huddled in the very back, under the cash register. Austin from the nip lab. I panicked when I saw him, but when my fear passed, I realized he was more scared than anyone else here. He wore similar, summer golf wear around his calico fur. The vanilla in his fur appeared to be melting over the caramel and chocolate. All this commotion started to turn him into a ghost. He shrieked when I scowled at him, “Oh crap, oh lord! Please don’t-”

I pointed my gun at his mouth and ordered him to shut up. My threat sealed his lips shut. Since he was here, he was one of Feral’s lackeys and wasn’t going to put up a fight, I decided to use him. “Where is Don Feral?”

“Didn’t we lie about him still being in jail?” the dumb kid slipped his tongue, “Uh- I mean- oops.”

“Take me to him…” I said, “and I might let you live.”

“You got it, boss.”

We jumped the counter and slipped through a big steel door with a sign of a zig zagging line. This door took us to an emergency stairwell. A towering expanse of ancient stone everybody forgets exists. The casino had an elevator available every five steps. So nobody, not even janitors came through here. Not a single minimum wage cat made hours cleaning this bottomless pit, and it showed. At the sides of every step and in the corners of every platform, I saw piles of black trash bags, littered to-go containers from various restaurants and cigarette butts. I looked to see the expanse of spiraling misery. Just looking up made me exhausted. I had to climb all that with little snitch here. The view was like a rippled funnel, spreading a flow of pain. I asked him if he was sure with the whereabouts of Don Feral. He insisted the big man probably hid himself at the very top floor. Well, I wasn’t going to get anywhere by standing here. If I stalled, Boston would probably realize I abandoned his little hide and seek game. I put the barrel of my gun on the kids back and ordered him to move ahead. I didn’t plan on risking an ambush at the top of those stairs. If the Ferals liked using other cats as shields, then I would see how they liked a taste of their own medicine. Austin began climbing the seemingly endless way of abandoned stairs of shaking legs. I marched close behind. 

After a few flights, I saw a blue metal sign on the wall with the number thirteen on it. We climbed a lucky number already. Already, I started to feel sore in the calves. If this tail had a hundred floors, this would take all day. When we rounded the corner to the fourteenth, I saw a forgotten plastic bag of green weeds, just laying there with a couple shoe prints on it. I mumbled to myself, “Damn, this nip is everywhere.”

He overheard and talked without my permission, “Well duh. It's practically this city’s currency now.”

“Well I’m ending that.”

At around the twenty eighth floor, my knees started to feel like bags of sawdust. It felt like my legs were going to snap like twigs and any moment. The kid started to feel the weight too. We didn’t shy from being vocal about it. As he hunched over like a zombie, he whined, “Can’t we chill for a sec? There’s a nice juice bar on this floor.”

“No. Keep moving, unless you want a bullet in your-”

Someone grabbed me from behind. It had to be the ambush I expected, but I didn’t think they would come from the back. A very tall cat wrapped their arm around my neck and covered my mouth with their hand. I thought it was Boston with the impressive sneak attack. That is until I heard their voice, “Stop damn it! It’s me.”

That voice shocked me to hear, but after the shock passed, I stopped struggling. My attacker loosened their grip on my neck and removed their paw from my face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked Tom.

“You think I’d let you do this on your own?”

“What were you thinking!” I yelled so loud, my voice echoed up the stairs, “You seriously thought it was a good idea to bring our kitten to an active warzone?”

“Wha- what do you mean?” she asked with this dumb look. When I told her about the gunfight down stairs, that frustrating glare changed, “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“This was my idea,” I reminded, “I’m doing this for you. Not for my career, not for the case, for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to do this though!” she fought back, “You’re only supposed to do what I tell you!”

Austin covered his ears and cried, “Stop! I hate when couples fight!”

“Oh hey, it's this kid.” Tom commented, “Why is he with you?”

“He’s bringing me to Feral.”

She let out a short gasp, “He’s probably bringing you to a trap.”

Austin gasped back, “Am not!”

Tom took my shoulder and pointed me to the door below our level. She said she jumped out from there to find me. I had no idea how she could know what floor I ended up on, like she had X ray vision or something. She supposedly had no issues going through the casino the way she came, so she suggested I follow her instead. I guess it made sense trusting her more than a Feral kid. Still I didn’t get her plan. 

“What about me?” asked Austin, “Am I off the hook?”

“Hell no.” I said, having a better plan for him.

The door led to a loud, open area with rows of slot machines and other gambling devices. Lights twinkled all over the black ceiling above us, putting this floor in a perpetual night. A sea of jingles, sirens and fanfares filled my ears, fueling my anxiety. The noise pollution here was wild. Right out the door, rows of big, glittering money machines funneled us down a path. Every one of these machines blared a different, intense sound. Every other box had a cat at its screen, trying their luck, hoping to strike gold. I felt any one of these cats could have been a Feral lackey. All this noise would have dull my heightened senses and distract me if one of them snuck up and attacked us for real. I hoped we could blend into the crowd. Spot them before they spotted us. Waltzing out the door to the stairwell didn’t turn too many heads. Me and her had to conceal our guns to make sure it stayed that way. Tom took the lead while I pushed Austin ahead of me. If he did anything stupid, I could rebrandish my gun in an instant. 

We almost reached the end of the funnel of slots. Just a few more steps and we would reach a big window with a view of roofs from the city’s other buildings. The sun began to tilt at an angle where blaring beams cut through the glass and scattered light across the floor. Almost at the window, a beam shot into my eyes and stopped me from seeing the end of the path. I stopped when Austin stopped. I demanded why he stopped moving and he said she stopped. I looked over his shoulder, but the sun glared my sight of her. I could only see her vague silhouette, frozen in place. I was about to call out to her, but someone ahead had the same idea. A sharp, almost explosive voice with an odd accent. The same accent as Boston’s but not with the same tone. Clouds outside shielded my eyes from the harsh rays. The moment of clear sight allowed me to see our rude guest. He was a Feral boy alright. A short, boney grey cat in tacky dress shirt, flooded jeans and a cowboy hat. I heard him yell out to Tom, louder than any noise in the casino. “Only reason why you would be here is if you got our money, Tom cat!” He turned his crane neck and locked eyes with the kid I held up in front of me. “Austin, you bring this brood over here?”

Austin responded by diving onto the carpet and screaming, “It's a trap! The black cat’s here! Shoot him, shoot him, shoot him!”

I heard a gunshot and saw the feral guy fall over in pain. Tom stumbled back, with a smoking pistol shaking in her hand. She ran past me, so I followed. It felt like she left me to die, but that argument had to wait. She hid herself behind one of the bigger slot machines half way down the row. Screams filled my ears yet again. Cats jumped from their seats, scrabbling for the emergency exits and diving onto the floor with Austin. A few more fearless cats stood and pulled out guns of their own. Ferals hiding in plain sight. Four more of them, ready to keep the peace. I saw a pair take cover behind a black jack simulator while the other two took positions behind twin slot machines. Tom already downed one of them, but he wasn’t out for the count. Standing with a gaping hole in his shoulder, the cowboy hat cat took command of the others and hid by the last row of slots. If Austin decided to man up and shoot us as well, it would have been six against two. Me and her cowered while our machine took a swarm of hot lead. Glass shattered, the pulley crank broke off and a mountain of coins spewed out. It felt like only a matter of time before the Feral’s shredded our cover to scraps. Tom made a move, like she was about to jump out and take those bullets. I begged her to stay put. She argued if she sat here, we wouldn’t get anywhere. I insisted she didn’t get herself killed. She yelled at me for not doing what I said. I couldn’t stop her from sticking her head out and rapid firing into the crowd like a maniac. After the barrage of explosions ended, she ducked back and cheerfully said to me, “I got one!”

“A Feral or innocent bystander?”

“Shut up and shoot, damn it!”

I didn’t want to risk shooting anyone at this point. Tom did not seem at all concerned for her safety or our kitten’s, while ruthlessly gunning down mobsters. I could have left her to the massacure, but I should have been taking the lead and protecting her. This was all for her and our family. As soon as this nightmare ended, we would run off to Vegas or some shit. That's what I wanted and hoped for. I breathed in as deeply as I could and stuck my arm out with my gun in hand. I pulled the trigger and blindly fired three times. The shots were complimented with screams of terror and a gasp of pain. Tom looked out for me. When she ducked her head back into cover, she said I shot one of them. It didn’t matter if she meant an attacker or bystander. I still felt sick. I asked her over and over, “I didn’t kill anyone, right? Please tell me I didn’t kill them. Did I kill someone?”

She didn’t answer and pushed me to the back of the slot machine. We crouched next to a mess of colorful electrical wires, connected to the box. Away from the straight path of other machines, I saw a more open space with blackjack and poker tables behind us. It felt pretty out in the open. Anyone who would have been playing at these tables were long gone. No one except a big cat in a black suit. I saw him stick his hand into his coat and pull out a big, silver pistol. He didn’t look like a Feral boy, but regardless, he wanted to pop a cap in us. Tom saw the guy making a move, so she threw me underneath a poker table and dived down to my side. She fell to the ground, hard on her stomach and it scared me. 

The sound from his gun firing into the table surface was like a sharp explosion from a firework. No bullet cut through the table, but I could feel its legs shaking with every strike it took. All this terrifying noise started to drain me. I heard the big cat yell out something to us. I couldn’t hear his words exactly, but they sounded negative. Tom must have heard every horrible word. She had this wild snarling look on her face. Before I could calm her, she ducked out from under our safety, stood up and shot the cat. I saw him fall to the floor, feet away from me. He rolled over the carpet, grabbing his side with a pained expression. She only injured him, but I couldn’t believe she could do that so easily. I told her to get back down as I saw a pair of white shoes run out from the row of slot machines. Another shot fired, but the body belonging to shoes didn’t go down. Tom finally did what I said. She slumped back beneath the table, with her look of anger changed to a look of pain. Something popped a burning hole in her shirt. I saw red liquid squirting from the center of her stomach. They hurt her. They hurt our baby. They had to pay for this. I jumped away from the table, saw my target standing out in the open and pulled the trigger three times. One went in his hip, another in his stomach and the last one in his chest. The sight of his body rupturing with fountains of red made me want to throw up. At the same time, this act felt right. If I had to do this, then I would. Five of them showed up at the start. She took out one, I took out one. The big guy joined the fight so she took him out and I killed this other asshole. That left two more. I decided to wait for their heads to pop out and take them down the same way as the white shoes cat, bleeding on the floor. 

Something rumbled to my left. Like lightning striking the casino. I looked and saw a big set of red double doors, vibrating with the sound. It felt like a stampede waited behind. I watched as the doors blew open with an army of armed cats. I saw their uniforms and their badges. Almost the whole police station joined the party. I wasn’t going to question how they got here so quickly. I felt glad to finally have some backup. Assuming the station received an onslaught of emergency calls, I got on my knees and told the army I was one of them. A bigger cat pushed himself through the crowd. I knew that cat. Feeling as if things would be okay now, I called to him, “Burns! The Ferals are here!”

After he ordered a group to tend to the downed big cat on the floor, he stomped toward me and said, “All I see are injured bystanders and the smoking gun in your hand.” I saw a cop take the jacket off the big cat Tom shot. A police badge fell out.

Another feral lackey emerged from the chaos along with Austin. Burns signaled a deputy to approach them. When the cop did, Austin flinched, but the other stood a determined scowl. He slapped Austin on the shoulder and told him to ‘give it’ to the cop. Austin nodded and handed over a wad of cash to the police. After the exchange, the two ferals fled and no cop chased after them.

I looked at her. The girl who shot a cop fainted on the floor. A pool of red slowly formed beneath her body. I pointed to her and begged Burns, “She’s hurt. Please get an ambulance.”


	12. Le Finale

She woke up, strapped to a gurney as the ambulance rushed her to the hospital. I was so glad to see her eyes open. I stood over her and said, “Tom, you’re okay! I’m so sorry that all happened.”  
She tried to sit up but I stopped her. The EMTs removed the bullet from her stomach and bandaged her up very well. I had a towel covering her stomach and I told her not to look under it or move at all. Itt was a miracle she survived, but not all of it was good news. I asked the EMT if the baby was okay and they replied with ‘what baby?’  
“Tom I’m so sorry but I don’t think you’re pregnant anymore.”  
“Kuro… I never was pregnant.”  
“... I don’t get what you’re saying.”  
“I lied to you.”  
“But… why?”  
“I’m a terrible cat.” she said, “Everything I said and did for you was for me. But when you said you were going to the casino, It hit me how much I was hurting you. I do love you and that is not a lie.”  
The ambulance stopped. Burns opened the back doors and told me to step out.  
We stood in this lot where the hospital parked their emergency vehicles. The sun set and it felt like it was my last tonight alive. Burns told me to hand over my gun. I did and asked his what was going to happen next. He gave me this speech, “Kuro… the Casino is legally owned by the ferals. What you did there was basically terrorism. I cannot allow that to happen to them.”  
“Burns! You're taking bribes from them!”  
“Not so loud!” He growled, “I know about the drug robbery you and your girlfriend did too.”  
“I almost ended this case.”  
“Kuro, you are under arrest for smuggling drugs, assault with a firearm and vehicle theft.”

I could not believe what was happening. Burns threw me in the back of his police car. He was taking me away from Tom. I didn’t know how to feel about her anymore but I still didn’t want to leave her like this. I couldn’t find Biggs anywhere. Burns must have told him nothing so he could deal with me himself in his own crooked way. Biggs had to be so worried about me. All this news would mortify him. I was being taken to jail by a chief I used to look up to. All this time, and he took money from the people we were trying to stop. He slumped into the driver side, ready to take me out of his picture. I growled at him, “Burns… this isn’t over.”  
“Oh I know. I know.”


End file.
